Page 62 of Maverick
“That’s fine.”
While he heads upstairs to wash up, I hurriedly plate dinner. Then I set the food out on the dining table. We’ve never eaten there together. We rarely eat together at all. And if we do, it’s in the nook in the kitchen, which is definitely more casual.
I look around the dining room. There are hallmarks of Sadie everywhere. A hutch that I am absolutely certain he didn’t choose. A lovely dining set with floral cushions.
I smile at nothing, but in my heart, it’s at her. Because I don’t want her to haunt me or anything. And it is nice of her to let me cook in her kitchen. Sleep with her husband.
Not that she’s here.
But I feel the absence of her, so I can’t imagine how it is for him.
When he comes back in, he’s also wearing a different shirt. “I was dusty,” he says.
“I wouldn’t have minded.” I cross to him and wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss him slowly, softly, and only when I’m in the middle of that kiss does it occur to me that I might’ve crossedthe line. We kiss when we’re about to have sex. We’ve definitely spent a fair amount of time making out on the couch, but it’s always a prelude.
We part, and I clear my throat. I watch his face closely. He doesn’t seem upset. Far from it.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Oh, it was good. I didn’t do a whole lot of training. I took a little bit of a rest. Decided to go grocery shopping. I really like cooking.”
“I didn’t know that about you.”
“Yes, well, a lot of the time I don’t really have patience for it. But I learned some techniques a few years ago. I don’t do anything halfway.”
His eyes go to the plates. “Clearly not. That looks incredible.”
“I think it will be.”
I walk over to my chair and take my seat, and he does the same, sitting across from me. He practically groans when he sees the food. “This looks amazing.”
“Take a bite.”
I lean forward, eager to see him enjoy his dinner. When he does take a bite, the expression on his face is nearly orgasmic. And as I am familiar with his expression being orgasmic, I am an excellent judge of that.
“Incredible,” he says.
I can practically tell that I’m glowing. I’m smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt, and I definitely seem like I’m not even that mad about it.
“Well, nice to know my classical French training served me well.”
“So,” he says, picking up his knife and going in on the steak, “Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”
I feel a wicked smile pulling at the edges of my mouth. “Other than have sex?”
“You’ve gotten pretty good at that,” he says.
“Well, thank you. Yes, there are a lot of things I don’t know how to do, but when I learn how to do something, I do it wholeheartedly, and then I get tired of it. It’s really frustrating. The minute I get really good at something, is the minute that it starts to get… lackluster. Cooking is fun, because I can always learn new dishes, especially now that I have all the different techniques, but then I have to clean it all up, and that is the really hard part.”
“I’ll help you out tonight.”
“No, no, you don’t have to do that. I wanted to do something special for you. Because everything with Frank is amazing. And…”
I look down. I realize that this is maybe coming across as a declaration of feelings. It’s not that I don’t have feelings for him. I do. But I don’t want to scare him. I don’t want him to think that I’m about to make a declaration, or demand any in return.
“I’m just really grateful to be here. You’re getting me back in touch with some things that I thought were lost.”
He looks at me for a long moment and then takes a bite of the steak. “Amazing,” he says.
