Feet bare.
Sun shining all around her from behind. Lighting up that red hair. Setting it aflame.
Swore, the girl was like curling up in front of a fireplace on a cold winter’s day.
I pulled an onion, fresh garlic, and tomatoes from the crisper. Spaghetti was the one meal I cooked well, which wasn’t surprising since that shit was what I’d lived on in medical school.
I rinsed everything, set a cutting board beside her, and started dicing so I could start the sauce.
I glanced over at her. “If I make you dinner, that means you’re making me dessert, right?”
“Oh, I see how this works. A favor for a favor, huh? And here I thought you were making me dinner out of the goodness of your heart.”
She sat up there like her weight had been lifted. The girl was lost in the mood, relaxed, catching on to the vibe of the sun slowly sinking in the sky.
My phone was synced with Spotify and set to one of my favorite playlists. Mellow and gritty, the guitar-driven beats pumped quietly from the speakers set up all through my loft, the hypnotizing lyrics setting the mood.
I feigned an offended gasp. “This is out of the goodness of my heart, Shortcake. But, seriously, have you tasted your cupcakes? You can’t blame a man for trying. Call it self-preservation. The instinct to survive kicking in. Because I might die if I don’t get another taste.”
“The dramatics,” she teased.
“The truth,” I shot back.
Amusement flitted across her features, and she placed her palms on the stone counter behind her, leaning back, hair swept over one shoulder. She stared at the ceiling like she was really contemplating what she was going to say. “And what flavor would you pick if I was kind enough to make you something? On my day off, mind you.”
She dropped her gaze back to me, that mesmerizing green swallowing me whole.
My brow lifted. “Do you really need to ask?”
My eyes raked her. Head to toe. Not even attempting to hide the fact I was already ready to devour her again.
Strawberries and cream and all things sweet.
A soft giggle floated from her delicious mouth. “You haven’t even tried anything else. Strawberry shortcake might be your least favorite and you don’t even know it.”
“Oh, there are some things a man just knows.” I leaned in closer to her, letting my nose graze her jaw, my voice rough. “And this I know. Don’t need to taste anything else when I already know I’ve got the fucking best thing sitting right in front of me.”
Truth was, I’d tasted enough in my lifetime to know when I’d never stumble on anything better.
Goose bumps spread across her flesh, and a shiver rolled down her spine as I pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear. “Got it?” I murmured.
“Well then, I guess I’d better stock up on strawberries.” A tremor rolled out with her wispy response.
I chuckled, swiveling around and digging out a large saucepan from the bottom cupboard and placing it on the stove. “I like the way you think. But I have to wonder if you’re thinking big enough. Not sure simply stocking up will suffice. I’m thinking maybe we need to invest in some stock in one of those fields up north. Maybe buy it outright.”
While I spoke, I flicked on the burner, a ring of blue flames jumping to life, and tossed some olive oil in the pan. I let that heat before adding the onions and garlic.
“You think so? Sounds to me like someone is getting a little greedy.”
Filling a pot with hot water, I smirked over at her. “Hard not to be when I want it all.”
There I went, running down that path, not sure how to stop myself.
Knowing if I reached out my hand, she’d be right there running along beside me. Or maybe it was the girl who was out front, hair flying all around her as she looked back at me from over her shoulder, smile so wide and welcoming.
Tempting me into chasing after that blinding, blistering hope. Wanting the striking, stark beauty of it. Hungry for something I’ve always wanted for the people around me, but never thinking I could keep any of it for myself.
I focused on getting the pot on the stove instead of all the thousand thoughts and temptations dangling right there.
Within reach.
The whole time, knowing if I were to grab on, every single one of them might be covered in spikes and spurs and barbs.
The onions and garlic began to sizzle. The thick aroma rose in the air.
“God, I love that smell,” Hope murmured, her head dropped back and her eyes closed.
Savoring.
Lust twisted my guts.
So tightly, I could feel it climb all the way to my chest and squeeze my heart.
“Yeah?” I asked as I dumped a can of premade sauce into the pan, tossed in the diced tomatoes to add a little extra texture and flavor.