Page 37 of Dining for Love

“Reid.”

I snap my mouth shut.

“Like I said, I know I’m sheltered, but…is that really a bad thing?” Her voice rises as she talks. “If sheltered means surrounded by the people you love in the place you call home, then I’ll take it every day of the week.” She looks away. “Sorry. It’s just…Sorry,” she says again.

“Don’t ever apologize for standing up for yourself, Willa. Especially with me.”

She bites her lip, then nods wordlessly.

I continue. “I only meant that you’re…” Sexy. Funny. One of a kind. “Amazing. Your food is incredible. I mean, I can cook, but you cancook.”

“No. You can cook.” She glares at me. “You’re an asshole about it, actually.”

“Wait. What?” My jaw unhinges.

After wiping her mouth and setting the cloth napkin beside her plate, she continues, “Where do you get off being so good at it? It’s beyond irritating.”

I laugh. “My mom wasn’t about to let me not know how to cook. Besides, for a lot of years there, the only way either of us was going to get a good meal was if I cooked it. She worked hard and got home late more often than not. I had to learn.”

She nods appreciatively. “I get that. Only did you have to bethatgood?”

“You afraid of a little competition?” I joke.

She harrumphs. “No. Not even a little. But I’m still pissed about that pork you made.”

“Took me a year to perfect that dish, but once I did?” I kiss my fingers and preen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.

I wink. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes flash and cheeks flush as the realization of what I said hits me. Fire crackles along the back of my neck.

I ball the cloth napkin in my hand and stand, the chair scraping against the floor.

“I’ll get that,” she says, grabbing for the plates.

“Absolutely not. You cooked, I clean. That’s the rule.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You’ll stand there, and you’ll take it.” I growl the words, and immediately want to take them back. First I tell her I’m going to teach her if she’s good, and now I tell her she’ll stand there and take it?

Worried that I’ve crossed a line, I look over from where I’ve started the water at the sink. She’s staring at me, and maybe I’ve thrown her for a loop, but overall, I don’t think she’s glitching. I smirk. “You good?”

She clears her throat. “Right. Sure. So, ah, tell me about why you’re here. You got shot, right?”

I wince. “Wow, going straight for it, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she says, immediately backtracking.

I scrub the pan. “It’s okay.” I’m not about to tell her about the Bunnies. She really is sheltered, and she’s far too innocent and precious to get caught up in even the story of them. “Just a traffic stop gone wrong. I needed a break from Miami, and when my uncle Jack suggested I come here to fill in for Jessica, my chief was good with it, and it seemed like a great idea.” I glance over at her as I finish my lie, ignoring the twinge of guilt. I was undercover for years, so the lying shouldn’t make me feel as bad as it does, but there’s something about this woman that makes me want to go to my knees and confess everything. All my sins, all my desires…all of which are currently about her.

And all of which are very,veryexplicit.

I finish the dishes, and we head back to the couch. We end up throwing on the Great British Baking Show and watching it for hours, with Midnight alternating between curling between us or playing with her toys.

“I could listen to him talk me to sleep every night,” Willa sighs, stretching her legs and issuing the tiniest of squeals as she does it.

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