Page 91 of Mr. Infuriating

I wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“Or something.”

This time when our gazes met, she lifted one eyebrow and defiantly put her hand on her hip.

“Such as?”

I knew then that I’d overplayed my hand.

Hell, I wasn’t even sure why I was playing any hand at all. I’d come to her house to offer her a deal—a way for her to keep her house, while my kid could improve his grades. And in the process, assuage my conscience for how big a dick I’d been after we’d spent an amazing weekend together.

When I arrived here, there hadn’t been any expectation of continuing things between us.

But the second I saw her, all I could think about was feeling her underneath me again.

Judging by her reaction to my flirting attempt, the feeling was one-sided.

I dropped down onto a stool at her kitchen island. “Actually, a grilled cheese sounds perfect.”

She nodded and gathered the contents for the sandwich on the counter, then took a frying pan from a cupboard and set it on the stove.

“Mama, I done!”

She glanced at Jake and shook her head.

“Five more bites.” Then she clarified, like they’d played this game before. “Big boybites.”

He bit half a red pepper strip, and Gretchen declared, “One,” as she opened the bread bag and pulled out two slices of bread.

Jake took a bite of fish sticks this time and she said, “Two…” while slathering butter on the bread. She placed one piece on the frying pan. It let out a little sizzle and she set two slices of cheese on it, before topping it with the second piece.

“Three.”

I watched in awe as she stirred the soup, then reached inside a cupboard for two bowls, grabbed two spoons from the drawer, and followed it with effortlessly flipping the sandwich in the pan. All while keeping track of her son’s eating habits.

“Four.” She stopped what she was doing. “That’s not a big boy bite. It has to be a big boy bite for it to count.”

Jake took a dramatic chomp of a red pepper strip, and she praised him with, “That’s better.”

She ladled a bowl of soup, set it in front of me, then plated the sandwich—making sure to cut it in half before sliding it next to the soup.

“Thank you, this looks amazing.”

“I didn’t try to burn down the kitchen this time,” she said with the soft smile I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed until right at that moment.

She looked at Jake and beamed before proclaiming, “Five! Good job, sweetie.”

With his mouth still full, he exclaimed, “Poo-ding, mama!”

“You want pudding?”

He nodded vigorously as he chewed.

“Okay, but you have to give me two more big boy bites first.”

Jake took another bite of fish sticks, and Gretchen opened the pantry and pulled out a chocolate pudding cup in one hand and a vanilla in the other.

“Chocolate orvanilla?”

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