I pulled at the tape holding the box closed and it popped open. The mouthwatering smell hit me immediately.
“Oh my God, is this . . . ?” I opened the top all the way to reveal an entire Boston cream pie from the diner.
“It is.” He pressed a kiss to my nose. “I thought you might be missing it.”
“You have no idea,” I sa
id before scooping off a small dollop of the chocolate on top and licking it off my finger.
“Shit, Jules,” he growled out. “I’ll never look at that dessert the same way again.”
I laughed before closing the lid. “Sorry. I’ll put it in the fridge. But I’m so excited. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Would you mind if I showered? I’d love to feel clean again. Or would you like my help in the kitchen?”
I smiled, loving that he was thoughtful enough to offer, even if he didn’t entirely mean it. “Go shower. I already put a towel out for you in the bathroom. It’s the blue one. ’Cause you’re a boy.”
“Thanks for noticing,” he said and planted a quick kiss on my lips.
Before I put the dessert in the fridge, I grabbed a fork with the intention of only taking a small bite. But one bite turned into four, and I had to stop before I ate the entire thing. Annoyed at myself, I opened the fridge and shoved it way in the back as far as it would go, as if I was hiding it from myself.
The dessert now safe, I headed into the living room to turn on the fireplace and light a few candles. I stood for a moment, admiring the ambiance, and returned to the kitchen to warm up the manicotti I’d made from scratch the night before. It would heat up nicely in the oven along with the homemade garlic bread I’d whipped up.
Once I’d popped open a chilled bottle of wine for myself, I retrieved the bourbon from the cupboard where I’d hidden it from Tami the other night. Leaving it on the counter, I searched for one of the bourbon glasses I’d also bought. I wanted everything to be perfect.
“You bought me Blanton’s?”
Cal’s voice startled me, and I turned around to see that he’d changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. Even dressed ultra casually, he still looked delicious.
I shrugged. “You said it was your favorite and I wanted to have some here for you.” My gaze drifted the length of his body as he sauntered into the kitchen.
“Sorry I got comfortable,” he said, referring to his clothes. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I said, then took a calming breath to settle my erratic heart.
He walked me back into a corner. “That was really thoughtful of you. The bourbon, I mean. Thank you.”
He leaned close and pressed his lips to mine. His hands slid behind my neck, holding me still as he deepened the kiss. He hardened instantly, something his sweatpants couldn’t hide, and I had to stop myself from moaning. As if reading my mind, he pulled back.
“See the top?” He pointed to the bourbon’s stopper, shaped in the figure of a jockey riding a horse. “They spell out Blanton’s, and I have all of them except the L.”
I let out a small chuckle. “Aw, that’s cute.”
“Be quiet,” he said before shaking his head. “Feel how heavy this is.” He put the brass figural stopper in my hand, surprising me with the weight of it.
“I didn’t peg you for a horsie collector,” I teased as I handed it back to him.
“Horsie?” He scowled at me. “These are cool. Women don’t understand. I might just hate you a little for that,” he said, teasing me back.
“You don’t.”
“I might.”
“You don’t.” I leaned up on tiptoe and pressed my lips against his dreamy ones. God, I’d missed them.
“I don’t,” he mumbled against my lips, then smiled. “Can I at least show you so you don’t think I’m a complete nerd?” When I nodded, he explained. “Each stopper has a horse and jockey in various racing positions. When you collect them all, you not only spell out Blanton’s, but you have the story of a winning race. See?”
I couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “I get it. It’s a good marketing gimmick.”