Page 58 of The Secret

“A selection of things for dinner. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I picked up a few different bits.”

“Oh, thank you.” She blinked rapidly. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

I propped myself up near the oven opposite her, so I could look at her and watch what was about to happen. I raised my eyebrow suggestively. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

And there it was, her blush rising over her cheeks, pink like a sunset.

I didn’t bother trying to hold in a laugh, because this woman made me happy by doing absolutely nothing but being herself, which right now, was a slightly amused, marginally uncomfortable, sexiest fucking woman I’d ever met. “I don’t. I’m a terrible cook but I can reheat like a champion. I thought it was about time we at least had dinner together.”

She chewed down on her cheek like she did whenever she was slightly nervous. I hoped that was a good sign.

“Well, what have you heated up then?” she smirked, before her face softened. “Thank you, it’s really sweet of you.”

I gave myself an internal high five, feeling like I’d won a small point. Maybe I should have pushed harder earlier, but we were here now and about to have our first dinner together.

“You’re welcome.” I walked into the pantry, Barclay following because he knew he was about to be fed. “How was your day? What did you do together?”

“We had a long walk up to Riverside Park this morning; she had her first nap there. We went to the market I used to like going to at college, bought some apples for a pie.”

I placed Barclay’s bowl down and left him scarfing his food up. “Have you been baking again?”

“No.” Her cheeks rounded, her mouth open as she chuckled loudly at me. “Just for when I have some time.”

“Have you always baked?”

She shook her head. “No, but when Payton and I lived together we used to be obsessed with that show you have in England - The Great British Bake Off – and we used to try and make whatever they made. We weren’t always successful though.”

I chuckled imagining her covered in flour as she tried to grapple with whatever she had been trying to bake. The timer on the oven buzzed, and I grabbed the kitchen towel to pull out the trays. “Well, speaking as someone who’s terrible in the kitchen, I think it’s pretty cool. Maybe you can teach me some of your skills.”

“I can try, but I’m no miracle worker. Although,” she sipped with a grin, her eyes lighting up as I placed the food on the counter, “your heating up skills seem to be on point. This looks amazing.”

She jumped off the stool and grabbed some plates from the cupboard.

“What have we got then?”

The individual fragrances of the steaming dishes mingled in the air until my mouth filled with saliva; a low rumble let out from across the counter and Kit grabbed her stomach with a giggle.

“That sounds like approval, but let’s taste it first,” I grinned, pointing to them all, placing another tray of food down. “Eggplant parmesan, fennel meatballs, chicken escalope, and mushroom stroganoff. Plus mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables.”

She looked toward the door, then over her shoulders before back at me with confusion. “Who else is coming for dinner?”

I held my hands up in defense. “Hey, I didn’t know what you would like.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.” She took the serving spoons I was holding out for her, before squinting at me. “Are you going to judge me if I have something of everything?”

I gasped loudly in faux shock, making her laugh again. “Nope, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Dig in.”

She filled her plate to impressive levels, and it dawned on me that I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever had anyone to dinner here that wasn’t my family or the boys. I certainly hadn’t ever cooked for anyone before, given that my abilities were limited to toast and bacon sandwiches.

I’d also not been out for dinner with a woman often, unless it was somewhere private, because it would inevitably end up in a gossip column somewhere proclaiming us as getting married. This would then result in a conversation along the lines ofthis is strictly casual,because I felt it important to clarify, but which never went down that well and usually put an end to whatever it was that had been going on.

But here I was, in front of a woman who had never tried to impress me, didn’t agree with everything I said, nor adapt her personality to fit what I liked, or coax me into being seen together in public, and it felt more serious than anything I’d ever had.

And as someone who would be out every night of the week, if this is what staying in looked like, then I was into it.

“Oh my God, these are the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had. Good job with the reheating.” Her eyes twinkled as she grinned in a way that made my dick twitch and I ignored it as best as I could, seeing as how my sweatpants weren’t about to hide anything. I loved that she could also give as good as she got, even if she did blush up a storm every time I teased her.

“The best in New York.” I scooped my own mouthful. “Everything from Citarella is amazing.”

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