Always You (Love Hurts 1)

I walked into the living area where Wrenn was standing. Okay. This was pretty nice. The open space made it feel much bigger than it actually was. The bedroom was off to the left, with the bathroom. A huge balcony wrapped around the right side of the cottage. Floor-to-ceiling windows separated the living area from the balcony.

“Holy shit, a hot tub! A freaking hot tub!” I jumped as Wrenn started squealing. She threw her arms around my neck, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I saw glimpses of her youth in moments like this. She pressed her lips against mine, her hands working their way under my jacket and shirt, and onto the bare skin of my back.

“Fuck, your hands are freezing!” I gasped, trying to pull away from her.

She laughed and held onto me, refusing to let me get away until I could no longer feel the cold in her.

I kissed her again; just having her so close was making me hard. I grabbed her hand and lifted her into my arms. She laughed as I carried her into the living room and threw her onto the big three-seater suede sofa.

“I’m going to make you a hot cocoa, then I’m going to cook you dinner.”

“You cook?” she asked, impressed.

I nodded proudly. I wasn’t the world’s greatest cook, but I could throw a decent meal together.

“How about we both cook?” she asked.

“If you insist,” I replied. “I will be back.”

I grabbed our bags and put them in the bedroom, throwing my wallet and phone on the nightstand. Back in the kitchen, I heated up a pot of milk, and then added the cocoa and sugar, stirring it until it dissolved. I poured it into the two mugs I’d gotten out and added a few marshmallows. I carried the steaming hot drinks back to the living room along with a bag of cookies.

“Thanks,” she smiled, taking the mug with both hands. She brought it to her lips and took a sip, her lips parting into a grin. “Perfect.”

“So, what did you tell your aunt about where you are?” I asked.

“With Kass. She and Trina have gone away. Layna thinks I’m with them.” She smiled gleefully as she took another sip of cocoa.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Starving.”

“Come on then.”

We went into the kitchen. She walked around the counter and sat down on one of the bar stools, her hands flat out in front of her. “What are we having?”

“Spaghetti à la Reid,” I said proudly.

“Can you elaborate on that?” she grinned, raising her eyebrows.

“Sure. It’s spaghetti, onion, garlic, tomato, basil, and my secret ingredient—anchovies.”

“Ugh. No way!” she screwed her nose up in disgust. “Sorry, but I draw the line at those fishy little monsters.”

“You can’t even taste it once it’s dissolved into the sauce,” I protested.

She shook her head adamantly.

“Fine. I’ll omit the anchovies in yours.” I begrudgingly agreed.

I placed a cutting board, an onion, and a clove of garlic in front of her and handed her a knife.

“Finely diced?” she asked. I nodded. While she did that, I put a pot of water on the stove to boil. Heating the frying pan, I splashed in some olive oil and added the very nicely diced onion and garlic, my mouth salivating at the smell filling the air.

“That’s a lot of garlic,” she grinned.

“What, now you don’t like garlic?” I shot back.

“No,” she giggled, “I love it, I’m just cautious about garlic breath. I was planning on doing a lot of kissing later.”