Magical Midlife Love (Leveling Up 4)

“It’s nothing.” I sucked air into my lungs and forced a smile, nearly falling into his gaze again, nearly stepping forward and melting into his arms. “Dang it.” I about-faced, ignoring the small smile pulling at his lips. “What’s for dinner? Can I help? Have any wine?”

Laughter rolled out of him, rich and deep, but he didn’t answer.

The kitchen was just as perfect as the rest of the house, with new appliances, mahogany-stained cabinets, and even a cappuccino maker tucked into the side. Kingsley stood in front of the wine rack in the corner, pulling a cork out of a bottle of red.

“You gave me a facial expression. You feeling okay?” I asked him, coming to a stop at the corner of the island.

Austin passed around me, his hand sliding along my lower back. I could barely keep myself from closing my eyes and purring in delight as he did so.

Maybe Mr. Tom had been right and I needed to get laid. Clearly all of those late-night exchanges with Austin had gotten to me.

Kingsley’s voice was so low that I barely heard what he said—something along the lines of: “Gargoyles definitely mate.”

Heat warmed my cheeks, and I looked down at my empty hands, remembering what I had put into my clutch…and also realizing I no longer held it.

“I left my clutch in the car, I think,” I said.

The cork popped and Kingsley set the bottle down on the counter. “I’m with friends and family, so yes, I allow myself more freedom of expression, especially since I have to be pret-ty obvious in order for you to get what I’m saying.” He twisted the cork off the bottle opener. “I can grab your purse.”

“No smiling, though?” I asked him. “You’re still in the camp that smiling is for chumps?”

“No,” he said. “Your jokes are just that bad.”

I laughed as Austin pulled a brick-red apron over his head. It boasted a white silhouette of a hen on the front above the words “Baking Is Gangsta.” He tied the strings around his waist and rolled his shirt sleeves past his forearms.

The domestic quality of the apron teamed with such a strong, fierce man was so cute and so hot and so sexy, all at once. My core pounded and my heart felt like it was melting all over the floor.

“Can I help?” I asked as Kingsley walked past.

He paused to point at the bottle. “That’s breathing. Don’t touch.”

Austin huffed out a laugh before washing his hands in the sink, right below a window boasting another great view.

“Nope. Just sit down and relax.” Austin pointed at a high-backed chair next to the island, and I lowered onto it. “Kingsley wants meat, always. I’d planned to make rib-eyes for us and filet mignon for you. I can pair that with a baked potato, twice-baked potato, freshly made pasta with some store-bought tomatoes and basil, or a little blue cheese risotto— Oh no, you don’t like blue cheese, do you? Some risotto or other, I’ll figure it out, and asparagus.”

He stared at me expectantly. I stared back, still trying to unpack all of that while fighting the suddenly uncontrollable urge to rip through his clothes and lick his fantastic body from head to toe.

“Store-bought tomato and basil?” It was all I could grab on to.

“My garden isn’t ready yet. I had to settle for buying tomatoes.”

“And you garden.”

“That’s how you get fresh vegetables.”

“Indeed.” I leaned against the island as Kingsley reentered carrying my clutch. “Fresh pasta?”

“From scratch. It’s the only way to go.”

“Only way to go,” Kingsley said, putting my clutch next to me and then grabbing wine glasses from the cupboard.

“Sure. And different meat for me—you can make all of that?”

“Food is a big deal for a shifter,” Kingsley said, pouring the wine. “Our family functions all revolve around food. Often we’ll hunt first, those of us who take the form of predators, and then we’ll cook it up and share it with our loved ones. Dating starts with sharing food, usually. A new alpha honors his pack with a feast. And so on. It’s part of our culture.”

“And you all cook like this? Pasta from scratch and gardening and everything?” I asked, seriously impressed.

Kingsley laughed, setting the wine bottle and two empty glasses on the counter near Austin. “Not even remotely. Austin has really upped his game. He could barely make mac and cheese back in the day.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t have a pack or a girlfriend and live alone.” Austin picked up the bottle and poured the two glasses. “I have many hobbies, and given how much time I’ve dedicated to them over the years, I am great at them all. It cures the boredom. Mostly.”

“Buying drinks”—I pointed at Austin holding the bottle—“that means something, right? Niamh wouldn’t let me buy a beer for Kace, or vice versa. Actually, she wouldn’t even let me buy one for myself. She never does.”