“Of course.”
“Frozen dinners don’t count.”
“I don’t eat that trash. Trust me, what I make will be good and healthy.”
“I’ll settle for edible. Listen, my apartment isn’t huge. You’ll have to sleep on the sofa.”
Not my first choice, but… “It’s better than bunking down with Shane and his three hookers.”
She flips me a saucy stare. “Just so we’re clear, you’ll be getting zero action from me.”
That sucks, but I didn’t expect anything different.
After a few minutes of traffic, Sloan pulls into an assigned parking spot in a new, upscale apartment complex. Her unit upstairs is small but tidy, decorated in tans, earthy oranges, and dark woods. It’s warm and cheerful. “This is nice.”
“Thanks. Help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen. Poke around the fridge. The pantry is in that corner.” She points across the room. “Pots and pans are under the stove. I hate anything with bell peppers, not that I have any in the house. Just about everything else, I’ll eat. Call me when it’s ready.”
“Sure.”
Three minutes later, I hear the shower running, and my focus on cooking something edible evaporates. All I think about is Sloan naked, about peeling off my clothes and joining her under the spray before sliding our bodies together and sinking deep inside her.
I wish like hell I’d turned on a damn light the night she got naked in my hotel room. At least I’d know what I’m missing. But I was too cocky, assuming I had control of the situation. I underestimated her.
That can’t happen again.
While I toss together a quick pan-seared chicken with a light wine-reduction sauce and steamed broccoli, I ponder the plan I’ve been forming the past few hours. I have to be cautious. I can’t leave Sloan any wiggle room. She’ll fight back, and we’ll have a battle of wills. But she’ll give in…eventually. I hope.
When Sloan emerges from her bedroom, her face is naked and her wet hair freshly washed and braided. She’s wearing black yoga pants that do great things for her legs and a matching T-shirt that clings to her breasts. I’m not totally convinced she’s wearing a bra…just like I’m not convinced she wouldn’t leave one off to rattle me.
“Dinner’s almost ready.” Somehow, I manage not to sound like I’m imagining her naked.
“It smells good.” She sets the table and opens a bottle of vino, then plops into her chair with a tired sigh.
Now that her makeup is off, I see the sleepless bruising under her eyes. She looks exhausted.
Frowning, I dish up two steaming plates and set them on the table, then sit beside her. “Eat up.”
She doesn’t need any additional prompting to dig in. After the first bite, she moans. “This is so good. It pains me to admit that you’re better than me at anything, but you’re a far superior cook.”
“I’ve been doing it a lot longer.”
“Did you learn in college?”
“As a kid, actually. I was raised by a single mom who worked two jobs. My two older sisters were responsible for laundry, cleaning, and bedtime baths. Plus, they had school activities and sports. Cooking fell to me. We all pitched in to get everything else around the house done. Even my younger sisters picked up before bed and helped with yard work on weekends.”
“Wow. I was raised by a single mom, too, but it was just the two of us. We did everything together. She turned it into a game sometimes. Who could make the mirrors the most streak-free. Who could make the kitchen floor shine the most. I lost every cooking challenge.” She laughs. “It’s never been my strong suit. I just can’t seem to get everything ready at the same time.”
“Ah, that’s an art. And that’s exactly why the cooking fell to me. I just seem to have that knack.” I shrug. “It’s part guesswork, part patience, and a lot of instinct.”
“Yeah, it’s the patience part I’m not so good at. Speaking of…now that I have you in my evil lair, want to tell me your thoughts so far on Reservoir’s situation?”
Not until the time is right. “No conclusion yet, other than it’s not good, which you already know, and that Shane needs to go.”
“Amen.”
“Why won’t your father get rid of him? He must know his prodigal son is a fucking disaster.”
“Mr. Rawson,” she corrects me. “He’s not my father until he deigns to acknowledge me. So I’ve decided I won’t acknowledge him, either. But he keeps insisting that Shane just needs to feel the full weight of the responsibility for Reservoir to grasp how important his contribution is. Then, of course, he’ll rise to the challenge.” Sloan rolls her eyes.