Page 72 of Love so Hot

Lawrence

The last raysof the sun dip below the horizon as I pull into the driveway. The engine hums itself into silence, and I glance at Willow, who has a serene look plastered on her face. It's like she's soaked up all the peace from our day in the woods, and it's radiating off her in waves.

"I really enjoyed today," she says, her green eyes catching the light. "It was... refreshing."

"Me too," I manage, and there's this unfamiliar feeling swelling inside me – pride or something like that. Seeing her so relaxed, so happy, it does something to the usual tension knotted in my chest.

We step out of the car, and the crunch of gravel underfoot mixes with the distant sounds of the Hollow, pulling me back to reality. We're walking up to the porch when Willow stops and turns to me.

"Hey, how about I cook us dinner?" she suggests, the corners of her mouth tugging upward.

"Vegan dinner, you mean?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. "My diet is more steak and potatoes than tofu and kale."

"Trust me, you'll love it." She winks, playful but confident.

"Alright, chef," I say, a smirk spreading across my face. "Show me what you've got."

"Prepare to be amazed," she throws back, laughing as she leads the way into the house.

I follow her into the kitchen, still riding the wave of her good spirits. Who knows, maybe this vegan thing won't be so bad after all.

I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Willow lay out an assortment of vegetables like they're precious gems. She's in her element, and I can't help but feel like a fish out of water—or maybe a steak in a salad bar.

"Here," she hands me a knife that looks sharp enough to cut through my uncertainty. "You can start with the peppers."

"Chop or dice?" I ask, trying to sound knowledgeable.

"Let's go with dice. Think you can handle that without losing a finger?"

Her teasing has me grinning as I focus on the pepper, the blade slicing through the bright red skin with surprising ease. "Challenge accepted."

She laughs and moves on to marinate what smells like tofu, her movements fluid and confident. It's oddly soothing to watch her work, the rhythm of chop and stir filling the space between us with something warm.

"Ever thought about going vegan?" she asks, not looking up from her concoction of herbs and spices.

"Can't say I have," I admit, eyes still on the diced veggies. "But I'm open to being convinced."

"Good answer," she says, and there's a sparkle in her eye that makes me think this is more than just dinner—it's a test.

"Tell me about these," I gesture with the knife towards a pile of leafy greens I don't recognize.

"Dinosaur kale," she informs me, and then launches into an explanation about its nutritional benefits. I listen, actually listen, because the passion in her voice is impossible to ignore.

"Who knew kale could be so interesting?" I quip when she finishes.

"See? You're learning." Her smile is genuine, and it hits me that we're doing something normal, something real. Not pretending, not faking. Just two people cooking dinner.

"Next up, tempeh bacon," she declares, and I raise an eyebrow at the apparent contradiction.

"Vegan bacon? That's a thing?"

"Prepare to have your mind blown." There's a challenge in her tone, and I accept it silently as I finish chopping the last of the vegetables.

Willow moves around the kitchen with grace. The scents of garlic and citrus begin to mingle in the air, and I have to admit—it smells incredible.

"Okay, I'm officially intrigued," I confess as she plates something that looks suspiciously like a meat dish.

"Wait until you taste it," she responds, her confidence bordering on smugness.

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