Page 33 of Go Cook Yourself

“More like this.” He holds my fingers and helps me make the fluttering shape. My belly does it, too.

“And now I see that there can be other things in life.” His brown eyes track me, and sweat beads my neck. I push up the sleeves of my jumper.

“You could be a professional chef with that pushing sleeves action,” he cheeks.

I shove him lightly, and he drops a flour dot onto my nose.

He stares at my lips, and I suck the lower one into my mouth. I’m so close to saying the wrong thing. He licks his lips slowly, and all the air leaves the room. He brushes the flour off my nose. I can’t breathe. “Ruby, I—”

My phone vibrates, and we stare at where it sits on the counter.

Neil the Wanker is emblazoned on my screen.

“Video call?” Garett asks.

I press my hands to my temples while checking the clock. “He’s probably drunk. He always video calls when he’s drunk. I’ve not answered any of his calls since I left him.”

Garett’s expression is grave. “How many times has he called?”

I nibble my lip. “This week, less than ten. The last weeks were more, and the first week was over fifty.”

“Can I help?”

My mouth goes dry as an idea blasts me. I couldn’t, and I really shouldn’t, but it takes hold, and I can’t stop my mouth from moving even as my conscience screams to stay quiet.

“Will you flirt with me?”

Garett doesn’t miss a beat. His voice drops to a level that only horny women can hear. “Rubes, I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Eighteen

Garett

The woman who’s filled my fantasies since I met her and brought smiles to a difficult time in my life wants me to flirt with her. I’m on that like butter on a crumpet. I don’t care that it’s just to piss off her ex-boyfriend. I’m taking my chance to act out the fantasies I’ve had after every cookery class I’ve left the past month. The clothed ones, at least.

“Ready?” she asks. Her face flushes. I haven’t even got started.

As much as I want to do this for my horny satisfaction, I also don’t want her to have any more voicemails like earlier. How dare that jumped-up twat of an ex-boyfriend make comments about her frigidity and say she wasn’t sexy. I’ve fantasised about her curvy bum for days. If I could grip it for a second, I’d die a happy man. Her hips wiggle when she’s happy, yet make me want to douse myself in cold water. And I’m confident I must implore every artist to paint her, because she has the perfect hourglass figure.

“I was born ready for this,” I say, and she blushes redder. She sucks that lip in again, and I try not to groan. “Flirting is a superpower I haven’t used in a while.”

She shakes out her hands.

Yeah, I sound cocky, but I was good at this once, and she’s about to find out exactly how good.

“Answer before it goes to voicemail,” I growl.

She selects the answer button as she side-eyes me.

“Yes, Neil?” she snaps. I initially stay out of the camera. I want to get a measure of this guy, though my body demands that I get my flirt on.

“I miss you,” he slurs. I’d be embarrassed for him if I hadn’t heard his cruelty earlier. And with that number of calls and messages every week, I’m surprised she isn’t continuously distracted by that harassing dickhead. “You left me.”

“You fucked Viv, my friend and the person I ran a business with.” Damn, I thought Clive was bad. If this co-worker also stole her dog, we’d be competing for the worst business partner and friend. “What do you want?”

He’s holding the phone close to his face, and I do a double-take at the sight of him.

“I need you to say that you still want me and that I’m the best you ever had.” I shudder at the gall of the man.

---