Page 53 of Chess Not Checkers
I press my lips together to keep from doing the same. “Next time, be more careful.”
“Yes—” Without thinking, I place my fingertips on his flour-speckled lips before he can say “chef.”
“Nota chef.”
He grins beneath my fingertips, making my stomach do a somersault. “Yet.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Years From Now
Shepherd Kingsley
I watch, mesmerized, as Jasmine expertly kneads the pasta dough. The same hands that tied this awful apron around me. And touched my mouth. It physically hurts to restrain myself from kissing her, but I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past few days, and I don’t think I should. Not until she knows about the rule Bash put in place, anyway. And telling her about that isn’t going to be easy after hearing how she feels indebted to him.
There are too many risks right now. I don’t feel ready to face them, not when she just started opening up and relaxing more. If I tell her, I’ll be admitting I want something more. And if she doesn’t turn me down, we’ll have to figure out how to handle things without me losing my spot on the team.
“Okay.” Jasmine calls me out of my spiral. “Now we let the dough rest for thirty minutes while we make the sauce.”
I glance at the clock but don’t say anything. I’ve got practice in a little while, but I don’t want her worried about time. I like this unhurried side of Jasmine. It makes me wonder what our dayswould be like if we had even more time. My offseason isn’t free by any means, but it’s a little slower. I smile as I imagine hours in the kitchen together watching her in her element, taking breaks to play chess.Perfect. It would be perfect. The only thing that would make it better is the idea of setting her onto this counter and kissing her breathless.
“I’m going to chop the onion because I don’t trust you with a knife,” she says with a smirk. “Can you put a little olive oil in the pot and turn the stove on high?”
“Normally I’d be offended by you doubting me, but in this case, I agree with your choice,” I say, making her laugh.
Every time I hear her giggle, my world turns golden and shimmering. This fuzzy, hazy feeling takes over my senses, and all I can do is wear a dumbstruck smile.
She grabs a cutting board from a cabinet, then pulls a large sleeved knife out of a drawer. The blade glints in the kitchen light, and I don’t have to be anywhere near it to tell how sharp it is. I turn my attention to the bottle of oil by the pot. I pour what I think is a little, then turn the heat to high.
“Are you ready for the game this weekend?” Jasmine asks as she cuts a peeled onion in half. Her movements are precise and quick. She dices the onion ten times faster than I’ve ever chopped anything in my life. I don’t know how anyone could say she isn’t a chef after watching her do that, but maybe I’m a little biased.
“I think so. Carolina is a great team, but we’ve been working hard at practice and watching tape of their games. I think with the right game plan we can beat them.”
“That’s good. I know you guys will do great. Bash said you were totally in sync last game.”
“You talked to him?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
She walks over and looks in the pot, then adds a touch more olive oil. “I went over to his and MJ’s house for a family dinnerlast night. Everyone was talking about how great the game was. Well, after they got done pestering me with questions about getting hit.”
I frown at the memory. “How are you doing after that? Still sore?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. The bruise is still a little tender, though.”
“Is it pretty bad?” I ask.
She lifts the side of her camisole. The gesture feels intimate, though I know it’s not meant to be. A dark purple tinged in yellow-green stains her ribcage. I reach out impulsively and trail my fingertips lightly along the center of the bruise. She sucks in a breath and I jerk my hand away.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” she whispers.
Our eyes meet, and I swallow at the heat I see burning in hers. It would be so easy to close the distance between us and kiss her. My body aches as pure want sears my veins. I take a step. Her lashes flutter. And then my phone starts buzzing on the counter. The loud noise jolts us out of the moment. We both glance at the screen. A picture of me and Willow lights up my phone. She’s in her wedding dress, smooshing my cheeks together with one hand while laughing.
“Does that say William?” Jasmine asks with a laugh. Her voice is a little off, breathless in a way that lets me know she felt what I did.
I let out a raspy chuckle. “Uh, yeah, it’s a funny story. I should get this, though, in case something is wrong.”
Jasmine nods in understanding and I answer the phone.
