I’m starting on the ground meat when the men get home.
“Looking good,” Khalil says. Is it my imagination, or is he looking at me instead of the bowls of neatly diced vegetables?
The men look good themselves. Marcos’s wavy hair is matted against his head in spots; it looks like he was sweating a lot. Shane’s arms and shirt are scuffed with dirt, and I can’t help but wonder why a dirty man is so sexy.
“I’ll be back in to help after I shower,” Devin says, gifting me with one of his gorgeous smiles.
“Just relax,” I say. “It’s my turn to cook.”
The men disappear, and I try hard not to think about their naked bodies soaped up in their showers, as I hear the murmur of water running elsewhere in the house. Despite my refusal of help, Devin returns in less than ten minutes, smelling fresh and clean, his hair still damp. He’s put on a white t-shirt and jeans with no socks, the intimacy of his bare feet giving me a shiver.
He pours himself a glass of water and asks what he can do to help, but I tell him I have it covered. While I stir the meat and add the seasoning packet, he gives me an update on construction at Rusty’s, where the roof is almost finished and contractors will soon be coming in to start on various types of wiring. I don’t understand the details, but it sounds like they’re on schedule, so I’m sure Barrett is pleased.
A few minutes later, Marcos comes in, coming up close behind me as I stand at the stove, his body pressing into mine, making my mouth suddenly feel very dry. He looks over my shoulder and I’m conscious of the way my shirt is loose at the neck, but I don’t want to be obvious about adjusting it.
“It smells good,” he says.
“Are you hungry?” I ask after swallowing the lump in my throat.
He presses a little closer. “Mm-hmm.” He’s still looking down, and now I’m sure he can see my bra. I remember his hand digging into the skin just below my breast when I was on his lap. There was something so steady and confident about his touch. There are times when I’m tortured by the fact that I can’t be with him, and him standing so close is not helping. I edge a step to the side.
Marcos clears his throat. “Want a beer?”
“Oh, shit! I was planning to make margaritas, and I forgot to juice the limes.”
He lays a hand on my arm, electricity shooting out across my skin. “Don’t worry. We can help.”
Devin slides off his stool and the two men go to work, juicing the limes and helping with the rest of the meal without me having to ask anything. It’s a good thing they’re here too, because I would have forgotten to warm the taco shells, and there were still a lot of other details to take care of to bring the meal together.
When the food’s ready, Khalil and Shane appear, both of them also smelling enticingly clean and wearing light, casual clothing that shows off their hard bodies. Dirty men are sexy, but so too, apparently, are freshly-washed men. Or maybe I’m just starting to lose my mind.
28
Tormenting me
Dinner goes well — most of it, anyway. No one keels over after eating the food I prepared. Nothing was burnt, and thanks to Devin and Marcos’s help, I was able to get everything on the table while it was still warm.
The margaritas turn out to be delicious, if a little strong. I start feeling the alcohol when I’m halfway through the first one, but when Devin offers a round of refills, I say yes.
As Devin mixes a new batch of margaritas, I follow him into the kitchen to assemble the desserts, which consist of layers of cubed pound cake, sliced strawberries that have been resting with sugar on them — macerated, the recipe on my phone tells me — and whipped cream.
Aside from Marcos, who’s as quiet as usual, the men ooh and ahh when I bring in the strawberry shortcake.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” Khalil says. “Now we’re going to want you to cook more often.”
To his side, Shane is sampling the whipped cream, licking a dab of it from his lips with the tip of his tongue as he stares right at me, triggering the release of a thousand butterflies in my stomach.
“It’s nice to see you have a night off from work,” Devin says.
“It’s nice to be off,” I say. “I did ask for extra shifts, though, so I’ll have money for a security deposit when I finally find an apartment. I’m expecting money back from my old place, but it’s taking forever.”
“When’s your next day off?” Khalil asks. I keep my eyes fixed on him because Shane is still watching me intently, like I’m a second helping of dessert. What is with him tonight?