Page 80 of Let Me Say It Again

I didn’t really hate it. I was just in a mood. Didn’t you ever get in a mood?

Truly, in this exact moment, there was nothing I wanted more than some peace and quiet. I only hoped Red was still at the office, or holed up in his home office, so I’d finally get what I wanted.

Stepping inside, I took off my shoes, hating the clacking sound they made on the flooring. Holding them in one hand,I walked barefoot over to the stairs, where I first dropped my purse next to the bottom step, then my shoes, hitting the floor with a thud.

I wasn’t saying I did it to piss him off, but it was a serious side benefit because I knew it no doubt would. If he saw it.

Meanwhile, there was a smell wafting through the air that seemed to be rejuvenating me in a whole new way. What was that smell?

It smelled like Red’s chef was working tirelessly in the kitchen. Which probably also meant that Red was in his office like I wanted.

Wow, this was working out in my favor.

Maybe the chef would let me have a taste before dinner because, let’s face it, food made me oh-so-happy.

“Honeybun,” Red greeted me from his place in front of the stove, complete with an apron around his waist. He was wearing a short sleeve black shirt that showed off his bulging biceps and was tight enough to present me with a nice view of his taut muscles and the ridges across his chest as he turned around and looked at me.

“How did you know it was me?”

He shook his head, going back to whatever he was doing on the stove. It looked like he was stirring something in a pot. “You’re a heavy walker. That, and there’s no way anyone is getting in here without a key.”

Not wrong. The security on this place was phenomenal. I was still focused on the fact that Red cooked, though. Since when? Better yet, why have a chef if you could do it all yourself? Seemed like a waste to me. Yet again, I didn’t think Red knew the meaning of a budget. He probably didn’t even maintain a spreadsheet with his monthly expenses like the rest of us. Unless his people did that for him. Who knew?

“Dinner will be ready shortly,” he informed me, the smell becoming impossibly more mouthwatering, filling the air like it was a new candle that was being lit for the first time.

It smelled like Italian food. Sauce, definitely sauce, but what was he pairing with it? I cleared my throat. “Dinner?” So, it was either he cooked because he wanted to, or he was trying to off me before the wedding.

What? I was kidding. It was a joke.

In all seriousness, though, I’d never once seen him step foot in the kitchen unless it was to get a drink.

“That’s what I said.” He stirred the pot one more time before turning off the burner. “You wanted a date. Who am I to rob you of going out on a date with me?”

“Except we’re not going out,” I acknowledged, getting chills from his nice demeanor. It was off-putting.

“Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I decided to deliver. Can’t you say thank you?”

“For a date I never asked for?”

He turned around and gave me a come-on-now-Jade look, his brows drawn together and his lips pouted down. “I read your text.”

I thought back to all the texting we’d last done. Was he really still on this? If it wasn’t something that occurred on this day, then I barely remembered it, so I was surprised he did. Hmm. Was it possible that Red needed a life? Besides, I didn’t think I’d ever really admitted to wanting a date. I mean, could he be that astute?

Maybe.

But nah. There was no way.

Finally, I shook my head, goose bumps appearing on my arms, but it was because this was weird, not because I was nervous to be having an official date with Red or anything. That would be absurd.

“I never said that,” I shot back at him, my tone snappy.

He shrugged. “Technically, no.”

“I like to be technical. I consider it sticking to the facts.”

Laughing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Truth is you were never going to outright say it. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to.”

Since when was he telepathic? I wondered if he knew what I was thinking now.

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