Page 30 of The Bourbon Bride

I make a surprised sound, but my legs spread of their own accord allowing him more access to the heat that is pooled right where his hand is and he can probably feel it through my leggings.

He drags his hand up through my heat and finally rests it on my waist, in a safe spot between the parts of me that are hot and throbbing for his touch.

“Slow sounds good.” My voice wavers, not quite on board with the plan despite knowing it’s for the best. He’s right. My body is responding much faster than I imagined it would, and if I act on every instinct and desire, I may regret it when my brain and heart catch up. I shake my head and take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly when he speaks.

“Let’s eat.”

He takes my hand and leads me into his dining room, the table set for two, the candles glowing in block holders I found for them, giving the low-lit space a cozy feel. He pulls a chair out for me, scooting it in as I sit, rounding the table to take his place across from me.

“This looks amazing. I’m impressed. It’s like you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he says, smiling at me before he takes a bite.

I look down at my plate feeling foolish for thinking exactly that. I must be entirely transparent. There is nothing I could attempt that would take him by surprise or even be a sly way of getting closer to him or making him fall for me. Want me, yes, but actually fall truly, deeply in love with me? Unlikely. I sigh in vexation at my own thoughts.

“Why that look when I compliment you, angel? You’re supposed to smile and preen when I tell you how good you are, not look defeated. What did I say?”

“It’s nothing, I promise. I’m glad you like it.” I take a bite of my own dinner, not wanting to have to explain myself while my face is bright red. I swallow and look for a way to change the subject. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

Hayes takes a sip of the dry Riesling I paired with the salmon after going through his wine fridge and doing a web search for what would work best. “Good pick.” He sets the wine glass down. “I work a lot, so there’s not too much outside of that I do with any regularity.”

“Workaholic,” I chide with a fond smile.

“Guilty.” He smiles, his cheek dimpling in a delicious way. “I work out every day, but that’s for vanity and health reasons, not really because it’s an interest.”

“I can attest to the effectiveness of your workouts, so if vanity is the reason, I support it.” I take a bite of a green bean to hide my smile.

“You like what you see?”

My eyes dart up to his, watching as they take me in, invested in my answer.

“Obviously,” I scoff playfully. “You’re chocolate fudge cake.”

“Chocolate fudge cake?” His brows furrow and he tilts his head as he tries to discern my meaning.

I feel a blush creep up my neck and into my face but take the topic very seriously. “Chocolate fudge cake is my most favorite food in the world and I could eat far too much of it because I can’t stop when it’s available. I have to moderate myself around chocolate fudge cake. I have to carefully pre-portion the cake and hide it away so I can make it last. It’s the food I would request as a celebration, as commiseration when life doesn’t feel fair, or as my last meal. I am a glutton for chocolate fudge cake.”

“You really like what you see,” he replies in understanding. “But you’re afraid of what will happen if you let yourself indulge.”

I nod vigorously, blinking a few times to help me keep my brain on track. “What do you do besides workout and work, though? What do your weekends look like? You have to have a hobby or something that lets you relax. It can’t all be work and no play.”

His eyes darken and he gets a mischievous look. “I am not a dull boy, if that is what you’re insinuating.”

I shake my head, confused. “No, that’s not what I mean at all,” I stammer.

He laughs. “I was finishing your quote: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’ It’s fromThe Shining.”

“I’ve never seen it.” I’m so relieved he doesn’t think I think he’s dull for being a workaholic.

He pulls back and gives me a look of shock. “It’s a classic Kubrick film based on the Stephen King novel. Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duval? It’s a great horror movie. We can watch it after dinner if you want.”

I clap my hands and point at him. “That’s something you can claim as a hobby; you’re a movie buff! There is no way you aren’t by how you just went on about that movie,” I tease. “I’m intrigued. We can watch it, but I will warn you now, I am the biggest scaredy cat and don’t usually watch horror movies because I’ll probably freak out and scream.”

“I’ll hold you if you get scared.”

“Deal.”

We finish dinner in record time and do the dishes together. He picks me up and sits me on the counter to dry again tonight. It’s a quick process as I already cleaned up after my cooking mess so it’s just our plates and the serving dishes. As I’m about to hop down from the counter, he stops me with a hand on my thigh.

“Come here, princess, I’ll give you a ride to the couch.” He turns his back to me and hitches my legs around his hips, intent on giving me a piggyback ride.

---