Page 11 of Splintered Security
“You didn’t.”
“Well, obviously, I did.” I smack his elbow lightly before checking to see if it’s injury free. Thank God it is. I already feel horrible. I’d feel even worse if I’d reinjured him.
He stands stock still with his chin lifted to the ceiling. Immobile and waiting.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My question is loaded, and we both know it.
He shrugs. His wide shoulders bunching around ropes of muscles before relaxing into the statue he was before.
“Are you sure you don’t need medical attention?” My mostly one-sided conversation isn’t getting either of us anywhere.
“Positive.”
“Would you like me to cook to give your body time to relax?”
“How good are you with carbonara?” His response is not what I’m expecting.
“I can spell it.”
That warrants me a smile. “Well, sit your butt down and give me fifteen. We’ll have a decent meal.”
He waits for me to do as I’m told before grabbing something from the freezer. Soon enough, he’s frying bacon and garlic in a pan with leeks, and the whole kitchen smells like an Italian restaurant. Chalk one up on my list of things I never considered I should look for in a man.
He wasn’t lying about the fifteen minutes. He must’ve needed that for the noodles, because it only takes that long for a gorgeous bowl of steaming pasta to be set in front of me. Golden yellow Bucatini is dotted with red bacon, green peas, and fried leeks. Cracked black pepper makes it look like this came from one of those white tablecloth restaurants.
He stabs a forkful and twists, throwing the huge bite in his mouth.
I do the same, but moan when it hits my tongue. “This is your idea of whipping up something? Seriously. Mine is a bowl of cereal.” My fake complaint is meant as a compliment.
He smiles down at me.
“It’s delicious. When did you learn to cook?
“I learned the basics while I was in the Army. Played around after I got out. And for the time it takes to pour a bowl of cereal, you could have protein and veggies.” He uses his fork to point at the bowl.
“And pasta,” I add with far more enthusiasm. I dig in for another bite, letting another happy sound escape me.
“And pasta.” His repeated words are soft, but they come with a smile. “Did you make a list?”
“What?”
“While I was in the shower. You were going to make a list of everything we need to do tomorrow.” He looks up at the clock and shakes his head. “Rather, later today.
“Oh. That. Yeah, no. I went to find a piece of paper, but started snooping instead. Didn’t get very far before…”
6
girly shit
Ren
Before she walked in on me rubbing one out to thoughts of her.She doesn’t finish the sentence.
“Right. So—” I stand and circle the bar, reaching into a drawer to grab paper and pen. “Things to do today. Get a marriage license. Buy a dress. Buy a new phone. Do you need shoes?”
She meets my gaze after a big bite of pasta and nods. I drag my bowl toward me and continue eating, but with the counter between us. Her warmth and her familiarity were enough. Closing her eyes and moaning with each bite was a fight for my dick. He was losing, and so am I.
I grab us each two glasses of water and ask again when her mouth isn’t occupied with my cooking. “Anni, what do you need to get tomorrow?”
