Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I clap my hands together, banishing some of the tension. “So, can I help with anything? I can’t pretend I’m any good in the kitchen, but I can make a salad if you point me toward a cutting board.”
“All right.” She nods toward the sink as she pours two glasses of wine. “Wash your hands, and I’ll get you set up.”
In seconds, she has me installed at a workspace beside the sink, surrounded by mounds of vegetables, a large yellow bowl, and a knife so sharp I’m guessing I could cut my thumb off so cleanly I wouldn’t realize it was gone for several minutes. To be safe, I hold off on sipping my wine until I have the cucumbers and red peppers cut into tiny slivers, as directed, and have moved on to simpler tasks like cutting cherry tomatoes in half.
Meanwhile, Melissa has miraculously whipped together a main dish that smells like a little piece of heaven.
“Damn, that smells good,” I say, dumping the tomatoes into the bowl on top of the spinach and other veggies. “My friend Orson’s duck never smelled like that.”
“I smoked this in my brother, Wesley’s, smoke shack,” she says. “I’ve been looking for a standout appetizer for autumn weddings. Something using only local ingredients and seasonal produce. I think this may be the big winner, but I want your honest opinion.” She comes to stand beside me, her palm curved under the steaming fork she holds in her other hand. “Here. Try it. This is a perfectly proportioned bite.”
I open my mouth, holding her gaze as she slips the tines between my lips.
Her eyes lock on mine and her voice is breathy as she says, “Careful, it’s hot.”
I hum in acknowledgement as I begin to chew. The food is delicious, but not nearly as delicious as the way Melissa is looking at me right now, like I’m a snack she wouldn’t mind adding to her pantry.
Fuck, I want to be her snack. I’ve wanted that since we were kids, but we’re on new and shaky ground. I have to proceed slowly, carefully. I don’t want to spook her or do anything to make her rethink her conditional forgiveness.
Which means showing her I know who she is and can be the kind of man she might enjoy spending time with…
I close my eyes, focusing on the flavors, honoring her creation. “There’s something slightly sweet, but…cozy tasting,” I say, knowing she won’t mind if I talk with my mouth full. “Reminds me a tiny bit of pumpkin pie.”
“Butternut squash puree,” she says. “I use it as a base to stick the crispy tortilla to the plate and add a whiff of Thanksgiving vibes.”
“It’s perfect,” I say, keeping my eyes closed. “It brings out the bright flavors in the corn salsa and the smokiness of the duck.” I chew a little more. “I like that the duck is almost burned and a little sweet.”
She makes a pleased sound. “Same. It caramelized in the pan when I was reheating it. I didn’t plan it, but I like it.”
I hum and swallow, relishing the aftertaste for a beat before I open my eyes to find Melissa closer than she was before, watching me with an expectant look. Not wanting to let her down, I search for the perfect words to tell her how fucking brilliant she is.
Before I can speak, she whispers, “You have an impressive palate.”
“Thank you,” I whisper back. “You’re one hell of a chef. I’m going to dream about that bite for a long, long time.”
Her breath rushes out as she bites her lip. “Damn it.”
“What?” I ask, my voice still soft, something instinctive telling me not to disturb the vibes. As long as I stay out of my own way, I think something amazing is about to happen. It’s like on the ice, when I can just feel that a play is going to go off without a hitch. I can see the puck sailing into the net from halfway across the ice, like magic.
Magic…
It’s a good word for the way I feel when Melissa says, “This is only because you’re sexy when you eat and it’s been a long time for me, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it or I’ll make you sleep in your truck.”
And then she’s in my arms, her lips on mine, kissing me with a wild, fearless passion that is everything teen me fantasized about and more.
Chapter 3
Melissa
Damn it.
This is a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
But God, Aaron Boudreaux tastes good and feels even better.
As he picks me up, guiding my legs around his waist before gripping my ass in both of his big hands, a hungry sound escapes the back of my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched this way, since I could feel how much a man wanted me just from the way his tongue strokes against mine.