He rakes one hand through his hair, and my knees weaken. Even without trying the man is beyond sexy.
“Is it a chick flick?” he asks
“No, not at all,” I tease. “It has car races, burning buildings, and a big explosion. You’re going to love it.”
He arches a mocking brow at my joke. “How could it not with a name like Under the Tuscan Sun and all.”
I laugh, turn the burner off and reach for the pot of boiling pasta as he contemplates that. “I think it’s your turn to tell me about your list, Alek. What are some of the things you want to do, and I don’t believe sex while skydiving was on the list. You just said that to ease my embarrassment.”
His smile is so sweet and warm, it moves through me and tugs at something deep and dormant. I love that he told a little white lie just to make me feel better. I’m not even sure he knows how incredibly sweet he is.
“First, I never want you to feel embarrassed with me, and second, if you’re into skydiving, then sex a thousand feet above ground is definitely on my list,” he says with a grin.
“Not on my list.”
“I guess we could always just do it in a plane.” He stands, and presses his hard chest to my back as I drain the pasta. “Need any help?” he asks, his voice rumbling through me.
“Why don’t you set the table? Forks and knives are in this drawer.” He pushes my hair from my neck and presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Mmm, that feels nice,” I say. He moves away and takes his warmth with him.
“I’ve always wanted to surf in Hawaii,” he says as he opens the drawer and pulls out the silverware.
“Oh, wow, that would be amazing.”
“Do you surf?”
“Do you see any oceans around here?” I tease. “But I think it would be fun to learn.” He sets the table, and grabs a pen from my counter. “What are you doing?”
“I’m adding to your list,” he says scribbling something into my journal.
“You can’t do that. It’s my list, not yours.”
“Too late,” he says and drops the pen. “Now you get to add something to my list.”
“I’ll have to think on that.”
I plate us up some spaghetti and meatballs and set them on the table.
“This looks delicious,” Alek says. “I’m hungrier than I thought.”
My stomach growls right along with his. “You only had half a sandwich for lunch and we did work up an appetite earlier.”
He stirs the sauce and cuts into a meatball. “What time are we going to visit Grandma?”
I can’t help but laugh as he claims my grandmother as his own. “After dinner. I’ll bring her some spaghetti. Hopefully she’s a bit more alert tonight. She comes and goes in and out of it.” He nods like he understands. “Do you have grandparents?” I ask.
“Yeah, you’d like them. Typical grandparents. Money on my birthday, ugly socks and sweaters for Christmas.”
“Do you wear them?”
“Of course, I do.”
I smile at him, my heart full as I picture him in those ugly sweaters. “You must have had a wonderful childhood.”
His expression changes as his gaze meets mine. He goes quiet, nodding, like he’s drifting back to the past and remembering all the happy times. “I really did.” Catching me by surprise, his hand slides across my small table and lightly brushes mine, lending me his strength and comfort. A need for…something wells up inside me at the tenderness in his eyes. “I wish yours was better for you.”
I shrug, even though his tender touch and sweet concern stirs my insides. “I’m okay. I had Grandma. She was awesome, Alek. She was the grandma who dressed up at Halloween, let me fill the house with friends, and did all the traditional meals at Thanksgiving and Christmas. She taught me to cook.”
“I’m glad. Now I’m reaping the rewards,” he says as he slurps a long strand of spaghetti.