Page 13 of Keeping My Wife
It was a long wait. Enough that I almost turned around.
Suddenly the door swung open. She was wearing a fuzzy purple sweater that dipped off one shoulder and skin hugging black pants that showed off every inch of her killer legs. Her heavy dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail andher face was makeup free.
“Cam? Did we have plans?”
“Nope.” I held up my bounty. “But I thought we could talk if you have some time.”
She rested her cheek against the side of the door. “Depends on what you have.”
“Fresh sourdough from?—”
She snatched the bag. “Why didn’t you say so?” She turned and headed back inside, leaving me at the door.
I shook my head with a grin and locked the door then followed her scent and the sound of music.
I found her in the kitchen. She was opening up all the cupboards stacking items on the kitchen island. A piece of butcher block, a knife, two plates, and a shallow bowl quickly filled the space.
Chris Stapleton and a female singer I didn’t recognize filled the room.
I set the bag on the counter. “What have you been up to today?”
“I made some calls to antique shops in Saratoga and Albany to see if there was any interest. Oh, and fielded calls from everyone and their mother calling in their condolences.”
I pulled out the oil and vinegar. Her eyes widened. “Oh, you have everything.”
“A very nice woman set me up.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Another woman put this together for you?”
I grinned. “Yes. Jealous?”
“No. I suppose it doesn’t surprise me, actually. Women probably always want to take care of you. Those wholesome caramel colored eyes probably make them nuts.”
“There’s nothing wholesome about me.”
She raided a spice rack from between two cabinets and came back with some chili flakes and a shaker full of herbs in an unmarked jar. “Don’t pout, Cam. Use what God gave you.”
I walked around the kitchen island to stand beside her, pouring a healthy amount of olive oil into the shallow bowl. “Why don’t you cut the bread to your liking.”
Her gaze drifted from my hands to my mouth and finally up to meet my gaze. “Surprised you would let the little woman use a knife.”
“Honey, I’m sure there’s nothing you can’t handle.” I sniffed the unmarked shaker and the sharp hint of a variety spices made my mouth water. I added drops of balsamic and then dusted it with the dried herbs to let them bloom.
She cut thick slices of the crusty bread and the yeasty scent made my mouth water.
“Have any wine to go with this?”
She stacked a few pieces on each plate then nodded. “Do you have a preference?”
“I’m partial to red.”
She met my gaze. “Me too.”
While she opened a bottle, I got the cheese and grapes ready.
“Do you want to sit?”
“Not really.”
