Page 102 of Billionaire Bachelor
Well, slap my ass and deal me in.
There’s a bottle of red wine breathing on the counter with two glasses beside it. Telling my hormones to cool it, I pour myself a little, humming as I taste subtle notes of cranberry and spice.
Curious, I pad toward the stove and peek over his shoulder. He’s stirring a pan of buttery peas, but my eyes zero in on the glass pie dish on the warmer. Mashed potatoes are piped in thick swirls over some kind of filling.
Wait a damn minute…
“Is thatcottage pie?!”
Logan quickly glances at me. “Maybe.”
I gasp. “It is! Like,my nana’s cottage pie! How did you pull this off?”
“The good doctor walked me through it.” He grins. “I told her I wanted to do something special for you.”
Aaaand my heart’s officially a labradoodle with a case of the zoomies.
My nana’s cottage pie is the ultimate comfort food, right up there with myabuelita’svegetable tamales. The matriarchs on both sides of my family have always shown their love through food. When I became a vegetarian at fourteen, I begged my grandmother to create a meatless version of her classic recipe. True to her traditional, determined Irish nature, she kept experimenting until even the carnivores in our house didn’t miss the original.
God, I miss her.
“I can’t believe my mom shared that recipe with you. It’s one of her most closely guarded secrets.”
Logan cringes.
My eyes narrow. “What was that for?”
He sets the wooden spoon down and faces me. “What waswhatfor?”
“The cringe, Logan,” I deadpan. “Don’t even try pretending that didn’t happen. What did Dr. Tate make you promise before she gave up the recipe?”
He gives me a lazy grin. “Relax, Rosie. She didn’t make me promise anything.”
I study him, thinking of how to rephrase my question. “Okay…so what favor did you vaguely agree to, what secret did you spill, or what awkward event do I now have to attend with you?”
Logan chuckles as he closes the distance between us, planting a kiss on my forehead and pulling me into a hug. “It’s times like these where it’s inconvenient we know each other so well.”
I pull back, lifting my chin. “Nuh-uh. Quit trying to distract me. Tell me how my mom made you pay for that recipe because I know she didn’t give up the goods for free.”
Oh shit, is he blushing? That can’t be a good sign.
Logan takes a step back, clearing his throat. “I may or may not have admitted we’ve cracked open the special box.”
My eyes widen. “Logan!”
“And…that we’ve used some of the toys.”
“Oh, hell, now she’s never going to stop playing Fairy Godmother of Sex Toys,” I mutter. “What were you thinking?! You know how she is!”
“At least I didn’t tell herwhichtoys!” he counters. “Believe me, she tried getting that out of me, but I told her I was drawing a line. AndI was thinkingyou’ve had a shit couple of days, and I wanted to do something that’d make you feel better. I can handle a little embarrassment with your mother, Rosie, as long as you’re happy.”
My mouth gapes like a fish, but I’ve got nothing. When he puts it that way, how can I be irritated?
Spoiler alert. I can’t.
I groan. “Why do you have to be so perfect? It’s annoying.”
“Well, you haven’t tried the food yet. For all we know, it tastes like dogshit.” Logan chuckles.
