“Here I thought a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she shakes her head. “Not that I’m looking for your heart, Cason. What I meant to say—”
I put my finger to her lush lips. “It’s fine, now let’s get moving.”
“Right,” she says. “I’m going to have a fast shower.”
“I’ll put on the coffee.”
I find my clothes and dress as she hurries to the shower. Downstairs I get the coffee going and pull my phone from my pants. I do a quick search on the property she’s interested in and make sure she’s not coming down the stairs when I make a call. I want to surprise her with this.
“I’m all set,” she says. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She eyes my phone as I turn from her, not wanting her to hear the tail end of my conversation.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I say to the manager of the building. I end the call and shove the phone in my pocket.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Fine.”
She jerks her thumb toward the door. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
“Yeah, my place so I can shower quickly and change.”
She hesitates for a second, a frown on her face, and I get it. Her douchebag ex walked out on her, and left her a little broken. But I’m not going anywhere. Not for the rest of the month, anyway.
“C’mon,” I say and capture her hand.
Forty minutes later, after a fast stop at the market to get all her fresh ingredients, we’re inside the tight quarters of her food truck. I kind of like the way we keep bumping into one another.
“So this is what it’s like back here.”
She grins. “Hot, tight, and slippery—”
I groan to cut her off and she closes her mouth and gives me the side eye. “Stop, you’re turning me on,” I say and adjust my cock in my jeans.
She laughs and puts her hand on my chest. “Slippery if you’re not wearing the right shoes, and you’re not, so don’t fall, because I can’t afford a lawsuit.”
“I’ll be careful.” I glance around. “What do you want me to do first?”
“Okay,” she says going into professional chef mode. “We need to get all the vegetables prepared.” She checks her watch. “We open in an hour, and that’s when things really get rolling.”
I dig into the box to pull out the produce and spend the next hour washing, cutting, and filling the trays. Beside me, Kinsley cooks and prepares all the meat. It’s amazing watching her work, doing what she loves most. How can her folks not see that this is where she belongs? Well, she actually belongs in her own restaurant and damned if I’m not going to help that happen.
“Want to play a game,” I say.
She flips the chicken. “Working here, Cason.”
“We can work and play.”
“What do you want to play?” she asks, her focus only half on me.
“How about two truths and a lie.”
She chuckles and the sound wraps around my chest and squeezes tight. Man, I love seeing her happy like this. I want to put a smile like that on her face every day.
“Are you twelve?” she asks.
“You’ll play then?”
“Fine. I’ll go first. Let me think.” She removes the chicken from the grill, and goes quiet, lost in thought as she grabs a sponge and washes down the dirty dishes. “Okay, when I was young my sisters hung me from the clothesline. Two, I had an aversion to pizza during my teen years.” My head jerks back. I can’t believe that. All teenagers love pizza, don’t they?