“Cooking is the same thing.”
She presses her lips together. “That makes sense.”
“But?”
“No, it makes sense.”
“You don’t look happy about it.”
“I just don’t get it,” she says.
“The wine?”
“I follow the rules.” She moves to the fridge. Finds the two bottles.
I open the drawer and take out the cork.
She picks up may I?
I nod. “You gonna drink both?”
“I have to sample them.”
“That code?”
“Is that an accusation?” Humor slips into her voice.
It warms me everywhere. Fuck, I want to make her laugh. I want to make her laugh more than I want to make her come. “I have a theory about wine snobs.”
“You think I’m a snob.”
“You’re particular.”
“And you?” She points to the bag of coffee beans sitting on the counter. A local blend that costs twice as much as grocery store shit.
“I know what I like.”
“What’s that?”
“Gorgeous redheads.”
Her cheeks flush. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”
“Trying to make you blush.”
“Why?”
“It’s hot.”
“Oh.” Her blush spreads to her chest. “Thank you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.”
She uncorks the bottle of red and motions to the cabinets.
I grab two glasses from the high shelf.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes a wine glass. “You seem more like a bourbon guy.”
“That was rum the other night.”
“I don’t know the difference.”
“Do you want to?”
She shakes her head. Pours a splash of red.
Her fingers wrap around the glass. Then her lips.
She tilts her head back. Swallows hard. “Not bad.”
I arch a brow.
“Considering.” She motions to the label. “You bought it because of the name, right?”
“Maybe.”
“You really expect me to believe you didn’t buy the wine named after threesomes?”
I shrug.
She laughs. “Red is good for more savory dishes.”
“Should I bust out the fish sauce?”
“Sure.” She pours two glasses. Hands one to me. “But you have to let me help.”
It’s not a bad idea. Might get her used to taking orders. And I can’t exactly complain about having her this close. “On one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“You put away the cinnamon.”
“Asshole.”
I shrug like I don’t care.
But, fuck, her smile feels good.
I move close enough I can smell her shampoo.
Roses.
Of course, she smells like roses.
It’s her.
It’s hot as hell.
I take a long sip. Wine isn’t my preferred drink, but it’s not bad. And the savory flavor would go perfectly with a beef stir fry. “You’re on chopping duty.”
She holds her hand to her head in salute. “Yes, sir.”
My cock stirs. That sounds way too fucking good on her lips.
I pull out the cutting board. Then the ingredients.
Slowly, I take her through the process of fixing a traditional beef bowl.
She hangs close to me. Her eyes stay wide.
Our glasses stay full.
Once everything is simmering, I hand her the spoon.
She places her body in front of the burner. Watches vegetables and meat fold together as she stirs. “You’re good at this. Did you teach yourself?”
“Yeah.” I move next to her. So the back of my hand brushes her wrist.
She lets out a heavy sigh. An I want more sigh. “Owen and I learned together. Because our parents were always working.”
“You cooked with your brother?”
“At first. Then he realized I was terrible and sent me to do my homework.”
I chuckle. “You’re all right.”
“I follow directions, sure, but I don’t have that sense you do. I have no idea what works together.”
“You can learn.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of like life. When I try to go off script… it never works.”
“What about this?”
“This?” Her eyes meet mine. “I scripted this whole thing.”
“Yeah?”
She nods.
“How so?”
“Well, I kinda… it’s going to sound stupid.”
“It won’t.”
“I made a list of guys I knew.” Her eyes go to the stove top. She stares at the green beans as she stirs. “I narrowed it down to the best dozen, then I made a list of pros and cons.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Her cheeks flame red. “You, um, you won.”
“Based on what?”
“Oh my God.” Her eyes flit to me, then they’re back on the stove. “This is so embarrassing.”
“No, it’s interesting.”
“Well, there was a portion that was… shallow.” Her cheeks flush.
“I was the hottest?”
She nods. “That was a big factor.”
“No shame in that.”
“Isn’t there?”
I shake my head.
She sets the spoon down. Turns to me. “You have criteria too?”
“Not exactly.”
“Still, I share my weird, you share your weird.”
“You first.”
“Only if you promise you’re going.” She offers her hand.
I shake my head and hold out my pinkie.
“Really?” She holds out hers.
I nod.
Yeah, it’s a little old-school, pinkie promising.
But it’s perfect.
She smiles as our fingers wrap around each other. “There were a few common pros. Hot was one. Experienced. And, well… bed hopping.”
“Being a hot slut finally paid off.”
“You’re also a great host.”
“I throw great parties?” I ask.
“Yeah, you keep people’s needs in mind. That’s important.”
That’s a good point, actually.
“And you’re always very punctual.”
“Fair,” I say.
“And you make me laugh.”
“I try.”
“You do. You’re good at it. Even though I’m always nervous around you. I, ummm.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “I used to have a crush on you. I always did. But you never paid attention.”