Page 51 of Finding Home

He raised a hand, shaking off her protest.

“Well, thank you.”

“Dinner is ready.” He held out his hand.

Still holding the book in her left hand, she took his hand with her right, allowing him to lead her to the kitchen.

Two settings of blue stone plates, silverware, cloth napkins, glasses of water, and stemless wineglasses sat on the oak table. Most people would have sat the plates across from each other, but Clayton placed them side-by-side. A bowl of fresh salad,grilled chicken breasts, grilled parmesan-encrusted asparagus spears, and a bottle of Riesling sat on the table. The herby aroma of the chicken flooded Elle’s nostrils. The room was lit with the soft light of candles in the center of the table and the orangey glow of the setting sun.

Conversation over dinner included a spirited discussion of favorite recipes. Both were amateur chefs in the kitchen with a healthy obsession with cooking shows.

After her last bite of the tasty chicken, she decided to tease Clayton about the historical romance she’d found. Kind of like the chicken, it was juicy reading.

He smirked as she displayed the book. “Book club.”

“The book club you’re in withyourmom and Noah’s?” she teased. “You realize this book screams heaving bosoms and randy dukes, right?”

“Nothing wrong with a heaving bosom or two.” He winked.

The first rule of book club, he explained, was when it’s your month to select the book, nobody complains, they just read. Noah’s mom was a huge fan of historical romances, so Clayton had a shelf in the bedroom filled with books about feisty women and the rogues who loved them. Discussing the “sexy bits” with his mom had thoroughly traumatized him.

“I haven’t read a historical romance before,” she admitted, studying the book’s cover which featured a curvy, sexy brunette in a pink dress.

“We could read it together.”

“Okay. I noticed the bookshop on Main Street. I could stop there tomorrow. How late are they open?”

“Nah.” He took the book from her hand. “We can read it together.”

“Like reading aloud to each other?”

“Our own adult version of story time.” He winced. “That sounded far dirtier than I meant it.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little dirty.” With a bat of her lashes, she pointed her fork at him.

Grinning, he ate the small piece of asparagus at the end of her fork.

Damn.Her vagina clenched.

“Noted.”He speared his last piece of asparagus and held it out.

She took it.

“When was the last time you had a…little dirty?”

“Sex?” She blurted almost spitting out her bite.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat.

“Ten years ago. It was fine, but I… I wasn’t ready then.”

“I haven’t had sex since Marianne, and that was at least a year before we separated,” he said as he started clearing their empty plates.

Elle rose to help. “You weren’t ready either?” She turned on the sink and squirted in dish soap, lemon-scented steam rising from the hot water and bubbles.

“Nope. I’m not the casual kind of guy, remember?”

“I’m not a casual kind of girl.”

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