She was walking a fine line. This was something new.
Something for the first time. She wasn’t good at that. She
wished she hadn’t bothered. Maybe she would say nothing.
She’d say nothing. Yes. That was it.
“What’s that smell?”
“It’s nothing.”
Coralyn looked like a bloodhound lifting her face and
turning it towards the kitchen. “Nope. I smell roast. And
potatoes.” She inhaled deeply, her eyes closed. Beautiful. She
was so beautiful. Her hair was like dark silk, pulled back in a
high ponytail. Flirty. Bouncy. She’d put on some makeup and
her lips were soft and pink and just the slightest bit pouty.
She’d worn, good fucking heavens, she’d worn a dress. A
dress with stockings. Her bare feet were encased in them on
the marble entrance tile. “Don’t say it’s nothing. I can smell
it.”
She could say that it was her dinner. That she’d already
eaten. That it was takeout. Looking at Coralyn’s tantalizing
expression made her mouth water. She was hungry for her.
Fuck the dinner she’d spent the past few hours preparing.
“Oh my god!” Coralyn’s eyes got wide, and she looked
really startled. “Did you cook?”
Don’t be weak. “That depends.”
“On what?” A shy smile, curling over her pink lips.
“If you’ve already eaten.”
“No. Not really. I only ever graze. I’m never hungry, but
that smells divine.”
She was pleased. She was pleased and it mattered. Seeing
the ghost of a smile on lips that probably used to smile and