Page 23 of Where We Call Home

Like a moth to a flame, I moved toward him, drawn by the man and the intoxicating aroma wafting through the room.

Without a word, he dipped a spoon into the simmering red sauce, wiped off the excess, and offered it to me. Instinctively, I leaned forward, my lips parting as he gently placed the spoon against them.

The flavors burst across my tongue. A perfect harmony of garlic, rosemary, and the kick of red pepper flakes. The spice was bold and satisfying, scratching every itch. My eyes fluttered shut as I savored it, my tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that had escaped.

When I opened my eyes, Rhodes was staring. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, gaze following the slow, deliberate path of my tongue.

Heat crept up my cheeks. Was it from the spice—or from the way he was looking at me?

"That’s delicious," I muttered, not breaking eye contact.

We stared at each other, a thick silence hanging between us. I could feel an invisible force holding me in place. Tilting my head slightly, I took in his wide eyes and slack expression. Something flickered across his face, something I couldn’t quite identify.

Rhodes was looking at me like he thoughtIwas delicious.

An urge swelled inside me to reach out, to close the space between us, but he broke the moment with a simple clearing of his throat, shattering my thoughts.

“Mhm.” His groan was soft. Turning back to the stove, he wiped his hands on a towel. “I, uh, have something for you.”

Before I could ask, he disappeared into another room, leaving me standing there with my curiosity building. When he returned, he was holding a bouquet of vibrant flowers, their colors so bright they almost seemed to glow.

The sight of them caught me completely off guard. My chest tightened, and before I even understood why, tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said quickly, his grip on the bouquet tightening as I reached for it. “I just... I saw these on my way out of the store and thought they were pretty.”

“Thank you.” My voice cracked as I grabbed the flowers, my gaze fixated on the arrangement of Gerbera daisies in every shade of the rainbow with delicate baby’s breath and lush greenery. “They’re beautiful.”

Our hands brushed as I accepted the bouquet, and I glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You can let go now. They’re mine,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rhodes chuckled, the sound warm and rich, and the tension in the air dissolved. I couldn’t help but laugh with him, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek.

I’d never had a favorite flower, I loved them all equally, but these? These I loved just a little more.

Rhodes took a step back, leaning casually against the kitchen island. I appreciated the distance. His proximity was intoxicating, his cologne—a blend of cedar and coffee—assaulting my senses in the best way.

In the short time I’d known him, Rhodes had exceeded every expectation. He helped me out of my car, held doors open, and now, he’d brought me flowers. No man had ever given me flowers before. I didn’t know what to do with them. Should I put them down? Thank him again? Ask for water?

Why was I panicking overflowers?

I tried to calm my spiraling thoughts, reminding myself that Rhodes wasn’t judging me. He didn’t care if I said something awkward or stumbled over my words. If he hadn’t already been scared off by my blunders, he wasn’t going anywhere now.

I placed the bouquet gently on the island next to my bag and turned to face him. “Can I help?” I asked, desperate for a distraction from the chaos in my head.

Rhodes shook his head, stepping back toward the oven. When he opened the door, a wave of rich chocolatey aroma filled the air.

He’d baked a chocolate cake.

Rhodesbakedme a fucking chocolate cake. My ovaries were officially done for.

My gaze fixed on his broad back as he moved effortlessly around the kitchen. Watching a man cook was undeniably sexy, and Rhodes was making it impossible to say no to...well, anything. If his goal was to get me into his bed tonight, he was certainly on the right track.

“Are you sure? Please, let me help,” I begged, teetering on the edge of dropping to my knees, though it wouldn’t just be to beg.

“Fine,” he relented with a smirk. “You can grab the pitcher from the fridge and bring it to the table.”

Grateful for the task, I opened the refrigerator and blinked in surprise. It was nearly empty.

If Rhodes liked to cook, why was there nothing in his fridge?

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