Page 31 of Haunted Nights & Savage Sins
“It all looks good. Did you cook this?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. The kitchen was way too clean for him to have been able to cook all this.
“No, I ordered. I’m not a good cook.” He grumbles and looks away, as if that’s something to be ashamed of. In this day and age, food can be ordered from anywhere and be brought right to the door. People don’t need to cook anymore.
“That’s okay. I can cook well. Maybe tomorrow night I can cook you something.”
“Tomorrow night?” he questions, his eyebrows going up in surprise.
“Yeah… I think we can make this an everyday thing, don’t you think. Like you said, we both have to eat, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere. What’s the harm in eating together.” I give him a smile and watch as he lets out a breath in relief.
“Okay, that sounds good.”
We both are there staring at each other for a second, until the tension gets too strong. “Why don’t we get started. We don’t want it to get cold.”
“Yes, that’s right. Let’s start.” He reaches for a plate as if he is going to serve me, but I stop him. I don’t need him to serve me; we can work together.
“How about we just grab what we want. There’s a lot of options. I want to taste a little bit of everything.”
Cormac nods and sits. Seconds later, we are both digging into the plates of food.
The food tastes like heaven on my tongue. I don’t know how they make these pastas here in America, but it doesn’t taste anything like this.
I’m sure my lips are a mess as I slurp up some spaghetti and chomp down on a piece of breaded chicken breast.
“Do you like it?” Cormac asks.
“It’s so good. This is the first time I’ve had a meal from America that I didn’t make.”
He nods and sighs before he puts his fork down and rubs the back of his neck. He’s uncomfortable about something.
“About that. What do you normally eat? You’ve been here for weeks, and since I see you haven’t passed out from starvation I know you’re eating something. What do you eat here?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You can, but I’m supposed to be taking care of you. It’s my responsibility.”
He’s coming from a good place with this. I’m not going to ruin it by saying I’m my own responsibility.
“Usually, I eat whatever I can put together quickly. There’s some corn flakes in there. Sandwich meat. Things like that.”
“And that is what you’d prefer? I saw you cooking something once. I wasn’t sure what it was, but if you like to cook I can get some things in here for you.”
“You were watching me?” I question, my eyebrows hitching up.
“Yes.”
The inferno inside of me rages even higher. God, just knowing that he’s been hiding in the shadows watching me makes me want to purr with happiness. I’ve really been getting to him.
“I do like to cook. I’d like if there were more fresh things in here for me to make.”
“Do you have anything in particular you want me to get?”
I tilt my head before I take a bite of warm, buttered bread. “I’ll make a list.”
He smiles at me again before focusing on his own food.
The dinner is more of that. He asks me questions about myself and my preferences. What I would like in the house. What he can get for me. It’s really showing a different side to him than I knew was there. By the time we are both finished, I feel like he knows more about me than I know about him, and I want to fix that. Problem is I don’t want to have to wait until our next meal to drill him.
I wonder just how far I can push this.
