Page 54 of The Fated Mate Bandit

Link: What do you mean? What do you think I’m going to do?

Coin: Share more photos of your dead turkey.

Link: Whatever. That glam shot of Terrance dressed up in his new scarf was a delight.

It’slike sunshine filling up my phone. I flip it to silent before sliding it into my back pocket. The buzzing that follows is still a little scary. One of those messages might be from Daryll. But it also might be Coin teasing Link in the brother chat or Quin weighing in on whether the Terrance photos are creepy.

Silver and I return to the kitchen where the big pot of stew is still steaming on the stove. I fill the two bowls I got out earlier and carry them over to the table with crocheted hot pads identical to the ones Ruby used to have in her kitchen. Her omega dad always gave her a stack of them at Christmas.

Silver grabs the spoons and glasses, which is nice. Daryll never helps set the table. He brings a loaf of Quin’s bread and a water pitcher to the table, too. In less than a minute, we’re ready to eat.

I sit down and inhale the scent of Ruby’s beef stew. Silver sits across from me, eagerly picking up his spoon and digging in. He moans appreciatively as he takes the first bite. I watch him eat for a few moments. The satisfaction of knowing I’m the one who gave him this simple pleasure drowns out all the fear and anxiety.

“You spoil me, baby. I wish I could eat your cooking every day,” he says.

“Maybe you could.” My voice is soft and tentative. It seems like a scary thing to say. Not because I mind cooking, but because of what cooking for him every day would mean.

He looks at me for a long moment. “I’d like that.”

We get lost in each other’s eyes for a while. I get drunk on Silver and the wonderful meal until I’m so full of happiness and food Daryll doesn’t seem important anymore. Silver dishes himself up a second bowl of stew, and I watch him eat that, too.

“The consistency of the carrots is perfect. Not too soft, but not crunchy. And that beef. It’s spiced perfectly. This might be better than my mom’s.” He chatters on about the broth and the potatoes in a constant stream of praise.

For a moment, I think I might be enough to make Silver happy, if only in the kitchen.

No, not just the kitchen. There’s one other thing that I am very, very good at.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back,” I say.

I wander into the living room where there are several large throw pillows. I grab two and return to the kitchen.

“Will you scoot your chair out a little bit?” I ask, flashing him a flirty smile.

“What are you up to?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Trying to make you happy.”

His smile fades. “Baby, you do.”

“Please. Will you let me do this? I really want to,” I say.

He pauses for a moment, then he scoots his chair out like I requested. I place the pillows on the floor in front of his chair and rest my hands on his knees as I kneel down in front of him.

“What’s this?” he asks.

I press a kiss to his inner thigh. “I think you know what it is.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I know. I want to.”

I reach for the button of his jeans.

He catches my hand in his. “Shouldn’t we do this in the bed where you would be more comfortable?”

“No. I want you to eat your favorite stew while I go down on you.”

He tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. “That isn’t necessary?—”

---