I have a dream, I just haven’t gotten to start it, if I ever do. I want to own a bakery, make little cakes and pies. I love to bake, I’m actually good at it. I’m surprised that Thorn and I haven’t gained weight from the times I have practiced making new pastries.
Why do I bring this up? My kitchen in the apartment is so small that barely do myself and Thorn even fit in it. It’s hard to try and bake, and it’s expensive. The stove in my apartment is subpar and doesn’t work all the time.
But Kingston’s kitchen? This is the spot.
His kitchen is huge- Island in the center, lots of cabinets, six burners, two ovens. large dining room off to the right.
Marble countertops with lots of space.
Yeah, nice.
I wonder if he has silk sheets. I need to stop. I’m just dreaming about being in this man’s life. He’s Thorn’s coach. Of course I’m attracted to him, but it should remain professional.
I was attracted to him before he showed us this, though.
Okay, I’ll stop.
I wander around the kitchen and dining room and find a little reading nook and again, I’m in love.
With the house, I should clarify.
“You have a pool?” Thorn breaks my train of thought.
“Yeah, feel free to use it,” Kingston says, “I have extra swim trunks in the pool house.” He points to a little house.
Thorn looks at me as if asking me if it’s okay and I nod, “Go ahead. I can’t believe you still have energy after what you did at the gym.”
“I am tired, but the pool looks relaxing,” he rushes through the back door, I chuckle at his enthusiasm.
I would tell him to have fun but he’s already gone.
Kingston starts pulling things out of the fridge and then steps outside to turn on the grill I can see through the window.
“Grilling is not cooking,” I state when he steps back inside.
“What do you mean it’s not?”
“Anyone can grill,” I state.
“You haven’t tasted my steaks yet,” he grins.
He pulls out a bowl and fills it with vinegar and spices, mixing it for a bit and then he adds the steaks, rubbing the liquid over them and then sticks them in the fridge.
“They have to marinate for about twenty minutes,” he says. “Would you like to sit outside for a little bit?”
‘Sure,” I shrug.
“Something to drink?”
“What do you have?”
“Wine and beer,” he replies.
“Beer is fine.” I’m simple like that.
He pulls out two beers, uncaps one and hands it to me, “Thanks.”
I follow him outside to some deck chairs and sit, taking in the beauty that is his backyard.