Page 7 of Feral Heart
Jamie’s gaze darted from the massive stovetop to the prep stations. “I’m really good at chopping. Well, decent. I mean I’ve never lost a finger or anything, which is probably the bar for ‘good,’ right?”
Cesar nodded toward the sink. “Wash your hands first. Then you can have a knife. Just be careful with those fingers,” he warned, unable to keep the affection from his voice. “I’m rather fond of them.”
“That’s because I use them to scan your groceries.” Jamie’s blush deepened as he focused intently on his hands.
As he scrubbed, Cesar took a moment to study him. The human moved with a nervous energy, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet even while standing still. There was something endearing about his enthusiasm, about the way he seemed to throw himself fully into each moment despite his obvious anxiety.
He’d been drawn to Jamie like a compass finding north, returning each Sunday just to see that bright smile, to catch that sweet scent. Half the time Cesar would make up a shopping list just to see him.
Now the male was here, in his kitchen, and Cesar intended to savor every moment.
“All clean!” Jamie announced, holding up his dripping hands like a doctor after a scrub-in. “Where’s the—”
Cesar handed him a clean towel. “Peppers are in the fridge. Grab the cilantro and parsley. They’re labeled.”
Jamie darted to the refrigerator, pulling open the door with eagerness. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about running a tight ship. Everything’s in containers with dates and names.” He retrieved the produce bag, cradling it against his chest. “My fridge is like a science experiment gone wrong. I’m pretty sure something in the vegetable drawer has gained sentience.”
Cesar laughed, the sound echoing in the kitchen. He set a cutting board and knife on the counter next to his own. “Just be careful with those scanning fingers.”
“So,” Jamie said as he cut the peppers, fully focused, “do you cook for all your dates, or am I special?” His head snapped up, cheeks flushed. “Not that I’m saying this is a date. I’m totally not.”
Cesar met those curious eyes. “You’re the first person I’ve invited into my kitchen,” he admitted. “Other than the guys out there, I mean.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Really? But you’re so good at it! You should be showing off these skills to everyone.”
“Not everyone appreciates good food.” Cesar added the shrimp to the hot pan. It sizzled satisfyingly, the aroma of spices filling the air. “Besides, cooking is personal. Intimate.”
Cesar furrowed his brows when he saw how the male was hacking the pepper instead of slicing it in even pieces. But he didn’t say anything. Jamie seemed skittish enough already.
“Oh.” Jamie’s voice was small, understanding dawning in his expression. “So this is like... a big deal, then?”
“Yeah, colibrí. It’s a big deal.” Cesar heated the pan and seasoned the shrimp.
Jamie’s smile was radiant, lighting up his entire face. He rocked slightly in his seat, hands fluttering from the counter to his lap and back again. “Cool. I mean, that’s…that’s really cool.”
Cesar couldn’t help but smile back, his wolf practically purring with contentment. This human, with his fervent rambling and expressive face, had somehow wormed his way past all of Cesar’s carefully constructed defenses without even trying.
They worked side by side, the silence comfortable despite Jamie’s occasional nervous chatter. Every few minutes, their arms brushed, and Cesar would catch Jamie’s quick intake of breath, the slight acceleration of his pulse. Jamie started to say something else but curled his lips in, almost like he feared he was rambling too much.
“Keep talking,” Cesar encouraged, flashing him a grin. “I like the sound of your voice.”
Jamie paused mid-chop, looking surprised and pleased. “Really?”
“Sí.” He enjoyed the way the male’s whole face lit up at the simple confirmation. “Now tell me about these dinosaur socks while we make the best meal you’ve ever had.”
Chapter Three
“I can’t move,” Jamie groaned, slumping back in the kitchen chair. He’d never eaten anything so good in his life. Or so much of it. “Look at my food baby.” He lifted his shirt, pointing at his gut.
Cesar’s intense gaze focused on Jamie’s stomach as he slid his tongue over his teeth. “No tienes idea de lo mucho que me tientas, colibrí.”
“You’re talking smack about my belly, aren’t you?” Jamie grinned. He had no idea what the guy just said, but he really liked how it sounded in that low, gruff voice.
It still didn’t seem real that he was sitting next to his crush after eating a meal they’d made.
That Cesar had ninety-eight percent made. Jamie had cut peppers and helped with plates and something to drink.
And he still had his fingers.
