Page 50 of Love You Always

She sticks her tongue out at me. “When are you going to stop doing that?”

“What?” I open a drawer and take out a cheese grater.

“Making assumptions about me. You think I’m this celebrity diva who doesn’t live like a normal person.” She takes the grater from my hand and starts working on the cheese, attacking it with such gusto that shreds fly everywhere and very few end up in a pile on the counter.

“Sorry.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “No more assumptions. I like everything about you.”

The toaster dings and I use the distraction to avoid answering her questions. Retrieving the toasted sourdough slices, I put them on a plate and start piling my ugly eggs on each piece. I slide the plates across the counter to Ella. “Here you go. Ready for cheese.”

She sprinkles cheddar on top of the eggs, and I put everything back in the toaster oven to broil. Then I fill up a coffee mug and beckon her toward me. She moves around the island block, and I wrap a hand around her waist to pull her close. “I can’t have you that far away,” I say, nuzzling the sweet-smelling skin of her neck. She purrs and drapes her hand over my shoulder, fingers brushing the back of my neck.

With both hands on her hips, I lift her onto the tile counter and lean into her. She wraps her legs around my waist and dips her head down to kiss me. In less than five seconds, I forget all about our breakfast, completely sated by the taste of her. The ding of the toaster breaks our kiss, and I reluctantly move away.

“Don’t think you’re escaping that conversation. I want to know why you’re so hung up about LA,” she says, hopping down from the counter. I stay focused on the toast, calculating the odds that I can distract her in some other way. When she comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, I decide my odds are good. I turn toward her and bend to kiss her again, but she leans away, wagging a finger. “Down, boy. No treats for you until you talk.”

“Did you just reprimand me like a puppy?”

She shrugs. “Are you trying to misbehave like one?”

Bouncing my eyebrows, I can’t resist the idea of misbehaving just a little bit more. She squeals as I scoop her up in my arms and start marching toward the staircase that leads back to my bedroom. “Princess, you have no idea.”

Her arms loop around my neck and she giggles. “Fine. Be that way. But eventually, we’re gonna talk.”

I reach the top of the stairs, and my lips are on hers. It’s a deep, searching, desperate kiss that I may not recover from. No more talking.

After a sex marathonthat has us both splayed out on our backs panting, Ella rolls to the side and puts her cheek on my chest. “I’ll melt cheese on toast for my man every day of the week, ifthat’sthe result.” She sighs, and I’ve never felt anything better in the world than this woman claiming me as hers.

Twisting my fingers through the strands of her hair, I want to pinch myself to make sure this is real. Ella pushes herself up and faces me, cross-legged. “Okay. Is this where I get to ask you all the things I’ve been dying to know?”

I chuckle, wondering what she could possibly be dying to know. “Have you been idly waiting, just hoping to get me intobed so you could pepper me with questions? Is that your game, lady?”

“I told you I was a nerd. I like information.”

I don’t share things with people unless I have to, but all bets are off with her. Something about her openness makes me want to give as good as I get.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

She sits up and rubs her hands together like she’s hatching a plan. “What does the Great Grumpy Grape do for fun, other than roll heads and growl at passersby, of course?”

“You’re never going to let that nickname go, I’m guessing.”

“Not a chance. So spill, Triple G.”

“I, um, I run.” Tucking my hands behind my head, I feel like that went well enough. One question, one hobby.

But she shakes her head. “Nope, not good enough. What’s something you like to do that not many people know about? Come on, Grape, let me get to know you better.”

“Okay. Well…I…play hockey.”

“Wait, what? How did I not find this out earlier? It’s my absolute favorite sport.”

I immediately regret telling her because a hockey fan will have expectations, and I’m just an amateur player in a rec league. So I offer what I can. “Well, if that’s the case, I can probably hook you up. My brother-in-law plays for the Oakland Otters.” I can feel my face redden. “I guess you don’t need me pulling favors when you’re a celebrity. You could probably get a seat at center ice anytime you want.”

She holds up a hand. “Okay, first, I don’t do that celebrity front-of-the-line shit…at least not very often.” I smile at that. “And second, I want to seeyouplay, not some team anyone could watch.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks as I try not to smile even wider, but I lose the battle.

“If you want to watch, I’ll get you the best seat in the house. Which means somewhere on uncomfortable bleachers with the wives and girlfriends of the other sad sacks I play with.”

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