Page 89 of Just One Moment

Iturn to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thankyou.AlreadyIhave the perfect morning to replace the old memories.”

Whenhe leaves to place the flowers in water—because obviouslyI’mnot allowed to do it—and to fetch us breakfast, my fingers trace along the cool metal.Ifiddle with the tiny latch on the side of the locket and when it springs open,I’mleft slightly disappointed that he didn’t put a picture in there.

It’sa stupid thought, oneIquickly shake away.I’djust hoped thatI’dfind him in there to rest against the heart he’s very quickly taking ownership of.

Allthe scentsand aromas floating aroundClaire’skitchen are making my mouth water.

Mynose is having a mini orgasm.

Notnearly as good as the two real onesGrahamgave me this morning after we finished breakfast.OnewhileIsat on his face and the second when we showered together.

Happybirthday to me.

Ihaven’t seenBoothin action before, only tasted what he’s concocted when visitingOurPlace.Withouta shadow of a doubt he’s a talented, skillful chef.I’veworked alongside plenty of head chefs, and they always have pent-up anger or an air of arrogance to them.NotBooth.Hecommands the kitchen with grace and respect.Andcooks up a hell of a storm without even breaking a sweat.

I’min charge of the pies, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, and creamed corn; he oversees the turkey, stuffing, and gravy.Everythingelse we’ve split.Thepumpkin pieImade at the bakery yesterday is chilling in the fridge and the crust baking in the oven should be done in ten minutes beforeIfill it with a maple pecan filling.Wemake quite the team, blastingTaylorSwiftandEdSheeranas we work in tandem.Bakingis obviously my forte but it’s fun cooking with him.

PoorClaireis still in a thigh-high cast and her wrist is still a little tender.Booth, being the overprotective youngest son, forbids her from lifting a finger, which she’s finding difficult.

Weboth let out an exhausted sigh when we finish cleaning the work surfaces and the remaining dishes are in the oven or simmering over the stove.

“IfIwasn’t so obsessed with buying your banana bread every week,I’dtry and convince you to come work for me.”Boothunties his apron and holds his hand out for mine.

“Workingin big kitchens isn’t my thing.”Mymind wanders back toGraham’sspeech atOurPlacebeforeJennainterrupted us.Hehasn’t brought it up since, but his words have stuck withme.Gettinghelp isn’t cheating, it’s a stepping-stone.IfIcontinue allowing my stubborn pride to get in the way, the bakery won’t progress to whereIwant it to. “But, if you’re ever in need of bread or muffins for the restaurant, let me know.”

There.Isaid it.Thatwasn’t as scary asIthought it would be.

“Wait, seriously?”Boothpulls us to stop on our way to the living room. “Oursupplier is one my dad used for years, but recently the bread gets delivered to us half stale or with part of the order missing.”

Mymouth drops open, because thisIwas not expecting.

“Ifyou’re serious,I’dlove to sit down with you.UsuallyI’dgetGrahaminvolved when working with a new vendor, but he knows you and, you know…conflict of interest.”Hesmirks. “Beforewe both get too busy this winter, let’s set up a meeting.”

“Doyou not need to speak to the new owner?”Ithink back toJo’scomment last month.

“Nah.Theymay think they own the restaurant, but considering they haven’t stepped foot in there,Idon’t think they’ll notice a change of vendor.”

“Okay.”Ibite back a grin, trying and failing to play it cool.“Thatsounds good.”

“Great.Now, beer?We’veearned one.”

Wehead into the living room and my eyes are immediately drawn to the man dressed in a deep maroon sweater and corduroy pants.TheSadlersget dressed up forThanksgiving, soIthrew on my nicest knitted dress and the knee-high bootsGrahamgoes crazy for.

Isaunter over to where he sits on the love seat in the corner.Heraises his arm, andIrevel in the wayIfit so perfectly into his side as he presses his face into my hair and inhales.

“Yousmell delicious.”

“Ismell like garlic and sweat.”Ilaugh as he grabs my legs and drapes them over his thighs.

“Youtwo are disgustingly cute,”Boothremarks with a sigh before taking a pull from his beer.

“Benice to your brother.”Claireslaps him in the chest and looks at us with heart eyes. “Itmeans so much that you’re helping with the dinner, today of all days.”

“It’smy pleasure.”Imean it.Ithought it would be a good distraction for what is usually a very polarizing day.Turnsout, allIneeded was the man next to me.

Ifthis is the first and last birthdayIever celebrate,I’dstill be the luckiest girl alive.

“Thetable looks amazing,”Itell her.

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