Page 52 of A Fighter’s Love

Dale laughed. “I see you’re starting this party without me.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Hey,” Jackson said, not releasing Jenny. “You’re home.”

Dale grinned and walked up to them. His work clothes—khaki trousers covered in pockets, a white t-shirt and body warmer—were sprinkled with brick dust, as was the hair on his head and on his forearms. He’d removed his boots and his socks were the only things not peppered with the white sooty substance.

“This sure beats coming home to an empty apartment,” he said. He pressed a kiss to Jenny’s cheek, then to Jackson’s. “But before I can join in, I need a shower.”

“Yes, you do.” Jenny laughed and untangled herself from Jackson. “And I’ll start dinner. I should think you’re starving.”

“I’m always hungry, for lots of things.” He winked at her. “What are we having?”

“A cold meat starter, then creamy chicken with mushrooms.” She nodded at the bag with the cake in it. “Then a chocolate dessert that’s got about a million calories.”

“I’m sure we’ll work them off later.” He laughed and ran his hand through his hair. A cloud of dust drifted over his face. “Yeah, I definitely need a shower first,” he said then turned. “I won’t be long.”

“You want me to chop these?” Jackson picked up the pack of mushrooms.

“Please. And can you put the oven on, save me figuring it out.”

“Sure.”

She set about finding knives and boards, then laid out the ingredients.

For a few minutes they prepared the veg, chatting about a project Jackson was involved in at work. Jenny enjoyed listening to his voice. It was deep and gruff and in the large kitchen it seemed even more so.

“There,” he said. “All done.” He gestured to the bowl of mushrooms.

“Thanks.

“Anything else?”

“No, I’m pretty organized here. Put your feet up.”

He stroked his hand over her hair. “I’ll go and see how Dale is getting on.”

“Okay.”

“If I’m not back when you’ve put that in the oven, come find us.”

His dark eyes were flashing and his jaw suddenly tight. She’d put money on him thinking about sex.

Sex with Dale.

She couldn’t deny the image of Dale in the shower, scrubbing off the dirt of the day, hadn’t crossed her mind. Clearly it had Jackson’s too, and he was going to act on it.

“Okay,” she said. “I will.”

He gave her a half smile then wandered, barefooted, from the kitchen.

Her heart was skipping and her skin tingled. She quickly found an oven dish and added the chicken and mushrooms along with an onion and pot of creamy sauce. Next she put the potatoes on to simmer and the veg to steam.

There was a slight tremble in her fingers as she set out the starter, layering the salami, pastrami and Parma ham onto a large ceramic plate. What were they doing upstairs? Had Jackson joined Dale in the shower? Was he soaping him up? Drying him off? Were they both hard?

She washed her hands, had a gulp of wine, then headed out of the kitchen.

She guessed the main bedroom was the door to the right of the hallway and walked up to it, her footsteps silent on the soft carpet. A soapy smell lingered in the air as she peered through the crack.

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