Page 44 of Ella Gets the D
“Am I!” My six-year-old catches his enthusiasm and brings it down a notch. “Yeah, that works.”
I turn to hide my smirk.
“The powder room is down the hall to the right,” Julian says. “Why don’t you two wash up, and we’ll get these in the oven?”
“Sure.” The word barely comes out before Jackson sets off for the bathroom, with Haile right behind him.
“No running!” Their sprint slows into a skip at my voice. Julian is back in front of the stove. “Someone made a good impression.”
He looks over his shoulder with a tilted brow. “I aim to please.”
I bite my lip to resist a grin.I’m sure you do.
We’ve texted nonstop since Tuesday. Questions about our living arrangement turned into random memes and video clips. The vibe was light, like friends catching up after time apart. Here, in the same space? Let’s just say dinner isn’t the only thing getting hot in the kitchen.
I threaten my hormones with a time-out and clear my throat. “What ya working on over there?”
“Come here and find out.” The same timbre that commanded me last weekend licks the shell of my ear.
This was a bad idea.
So why does it feel so good?
It’s shameful how quickly I comply. I’m now next to a skillet with a meal teasing my stomach and a man tempting my…stop it.
Julian gathers a small spoonful of sauce and blows. “Open.” His gaze lowers to my mouth.
How the hell did we get fromLet’s have dinner with my kidstoYou can eat dinner off me if you want? Julian is a flirt, that much is obvious, but this sexual tension is about to sear the crotch right out of my panties.
This man isn’t checking for me like that. That’s my mantra, and I’m sticking to it.
I shake the after-darkLady and the Trampreenactment from my mind, swallow the sauce, and step back. There are no noodles in the skillet anyway, and fantasizing about my bestfriend’s brother is just wrong. The problem is that the sauce is so delicious, I moan—against my better judgment.
Our eyes lock before Julian’s rake over my body. They travel down my breasts in a simple white tee and drop from my hips in black ripped jeans to my lilac toes.
“It’s amazing,” I say through a breath. “What is it?”
His answer comes with a slight headshake, maybe to knock away the inappropriate back-and-forth we can’t escape. “Skillet eggplant Parmesan.” He glances at his creation and frowns. “A meeting ran late. I didn’t have time to grab everything I wanted from the store.”
“You do realize you’re talking to a woman whose go-to dinner is dinosaur nuggets with macaroni and cheese?” I’ve mastered the art of comfort food. If it involves preheating and pouring a few ingredients into a pan, I’ll make it.
“Is this—is all of this okay? For them?” There’s a softness in his voice that’s replaced the confident tone that dared me to suck on his spoon. Julian wants to make a good impression, and his effort goes above and beyond anything I imagined.
My hand reaches to cover his wrist. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
We don’t break apart until Jackson and Haile thunder down the hall. “We got our hands extra clean,” Jackson says. “Washed them six times.”
“You should be good,” Julian says with a chuckle. “Are you into anime?” He points at Jackson’s shirt. “Naruto. Do you watch?”
Jackson bites the side of his cheek and frowns. “Duke has this shirt. It looked cool, so I asked for one.”
“He wanted it because of our Japanese lessons. I could teach you too and show you some anime if you want?”
“Really?”
Julian lifts a shoulder. “Yeah. If it’s okay with your mom, we can start next week.”
Leave it to this man to have my quiet child bouncing on his toes, waiting for my response. My smile deepens into laughter. “Fine with me. What do you say to Mr. Julian, Jackson?”
