Page 142 of The Arrogant One
“Tell me.”
“The things we do together in your house. Cooking. Relaxing. Sleeping. Showering.” She smiled. “Swimming.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t call what we’ve done in that pool swimming.”
“True.” She giggled.
“Your beautiful house has always felt like home to me, Lockhart …” She rubbed her lips over mine, back and forth, slowly. “I would love to live there with you.”
“It’s settled, then. Let me know when you want your stuff brought over, and I’ll hire the movers.”
“I don’t think I need a mover. I’m just going to bring my clothes—not Dear Foodie’s clothes. My accessories, bathroom stuff. It shouldn’t be more than, say, fifteen boxes.”
“Fifteen boxes?” I huffed. “I’m getting a fucking mover.”
She poked my chest. “You’re too much—” Her voice cut off at the sound of a bell. “The cinnamon buns are done.” She rushed into the kitchen, slipping her hands into mitts, taking out the tray from inside the oven. “These need to cool for a few minutes, and then I’ll top them with icing.”
“Now that’s just mean.”
She looked at me over her shoulder. “You want a little preview?”
“You really need to ask?”
She waved me over, and I resumed my position behind her, holding her waist, my chin resting on top of her shoulder. She pulled off a small corner piece and held it up to my mouth.
I surrounded her fingers and sucked off the dough, immediately moaning, “Sadie …”
She turned around and watched me chew. “You like it?”
“If this is without icing, I can’t even imagine what it will taste like with icing.” I closed my eyes, my head falling back as the richness of the cinnamon took ahold of me. “Do yourself a favor and don’t ever bake these for Colson. He’ll start askingyou to make them weekly, and if Walker gets wind of this, he’ll probably try to put these on the menu somewhere.”
She laughed. “I don’t know if they’rethatgood.”
“They are. Trust me.”
“Thank you.” She blushed and put her hands on my chest, rubbing them in a circle before her palms slid up my neck and to my face. Her tongue traced the corner of her lips. “You haven’t asked.”
I hid my smile. “Asked what?”
“Asked about the elephant in the room.”
“What elephant, Sadie?”
She gently hit me. “Lockhart, you know what elephant I’m talking about. The review for Toro.”
“I’m not going to ask.”
“But I want you to.”
I shook my head. “I respect you far too much for that. The review posts tomorrow, and whatever it is, whatever it looks like, it won’t have anything to do with you and me. That’s business, and this”—I held her tighter—“is what really matters.”
“Fine, then I’m going to tell you.” Her smile was almost sinister.
“No—”
“It was the best meal I’ve ever had in LA.”
I let that sink in. And when it was done sinking, I let it fall all the way to my gut, where every bit of anxiousness had been living since the opening of this fucking restaurant. “What? Are you kidding?”
