Ten minutes later, dinner is nearly complete.
Braden has yet to make an appearance. I check my watch. Ten until six. Marilyn said he wanted his dinner at six, so he should be coming out of his office shortly.
My heart skips.
Will he be pleased with the meal? With me?
He loves me, but he’s so hard to read sometimes.
Correction—all the time. Except in the bedroom.
The bedroom, where I’ve given him my control.
And even then, I never quite know for sure.
I sigh.
Nothing more to do. Dinner is warming on the stove and is ready to be served. One more photo of the étouffé when I plate it, and then I’ll post the series.
I look down at myself.
I’m still in my yoga outfit, and because I neglected to find an apron, I have spatters down the front of me.
Great.
I regard my watch again.
Five minutes until six.
Time to race up to my room on the second floor and hope I find something I can change into.
Chapter Forty-Six
At six o’clock p.m. sharp, I descend the staircase wearing a green sundress I found in my closet. It fits me like a glove, and I added brown leather sandals. I didn’t have a chance to do any more than pull my hair out of its ponytail and run my fingers through it. I painted on some of the Honey Glaze lip gloss and that’s it.
This is me as I am.
Braden still hasn’t come out of his office, and I sigh in relief.
Now what?
I haven’t set the table, so I find dishes in the cupboards and take care of that. Then I pour two Wild Turkeys.
And I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
The clock ticks.
I return to the kitchen, turn off the stove, and cover the étouffée to keep it warm. I return to the dining room and eat a couple of my Cajun almonds. Yum.
Finally Braden emerges.
My breath catches.
He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, and he’s fucking luscious.
Have I ever seen him dressed so casually? Other than the black pants and no shirt at the club in New York, and that didn’t strike me as casual at all. He was dressed for the club.
“Skye,” he says. Then he inhales. “Something smells amazing. What did Marilyn prepare for us?”
“Nothing,” I say, smiling like a giddy schoolgirl.
“Nothing?”
“Marilyn didn’t make dinner tonight. I did.” I hand him his glass of bourbon and then hold up the bowl of freshly pan-roasted almonds. “Cajun almonds. Try one and then take a sip of Wild Turkey.”
“Skye…”
I lift my eyebrows. “Yes?”
“We didn’t have plans tonight.”
“I know, but I wanted to see you.” I stride toward him, hoping I look more seductive than I feel. “Is that wrong?”
“It’s…” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s not wrong.”
“Then what’s the matter? Do you have someone else coming over here?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why can’t I come over and surprise my boyfriend with dinner?” I close the distance between us to the point that I’m nearly touching him.
“God, your mouth,” he rasps.
I smile. “I wanted to cook for you. I hope you like Cajun food.”
“I love it.”
“Good. I made shrimp étouffée. Why don’t you pick out a wine for us? You know so much more about that stuff than I do.”
He sighs. “Skye…”
I step back, getting irritated. “What? What is it, Braden?”
“I didn’t give you permission for this.”
I roll my eyes. “Are we really going to go there, Braden? I’ve had a shit day. I wanted to do something that made me feel good. It made me feel good to come over here and cook for you. Do I need permission to do something nice for the man I love?”
He doesn’t answer.
Which gives me my answer.
Finally, “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he says.
I set down my drink and fall into his arms. “That is just what I needed to hear.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Can I help?”
I pull back and meet his gaze. “You can help by picking out a bottle of wine and then eating the dinner I made for you.”
“All right.” He walks toward the wine rack, pulls out a bottle, and returns. “This Beaujolais-Villages will be perfect. It’s light in body, and its acidity will complement the food.”
I take the bottle from him, secretly pleased. It was one I considered. “Sounds perfect.” I set it on the table.
He nods, still stoic.
“Something’s bothering you still.”
“It’s not what you think it is.”
“So you’re not bothered that I showed up and commandeered your kitchen?”
“No, Skye. I’m not.”
“Then what is it?”
He touches my cheek. “I’m bothered that I’m not bothered that you showed up and commandeered my kitchen.”
My mouth drops open.
“Don’t look so surprised.”
“Why should you want to be bothered by this? We’re in a relationship, Braden.”
“Skye, you know I made a lot of concessions for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. You didn’t want a relationship. But you changed your mind. I didn’t make you change your mind.”