Page 74 of A Ticking Time Boss

“Your bedroom.” She stands on the threshold, peering inside the large room. Seeing my bed sends another jolt of heat through me. It looks like it always does, large and made, but her presence changes everything.

The air feels electric. “Yes,” I say.

“Your bed is so big.”

Several inappropriate replies flit through my mind. One even hovers on my tongue, but I don’t want her to feel pressured. Not ever.

“Mhm.”

Audrey looks up at me with a grin. “That was a very tame response?”

“I fought against my impulses, believe me.”

She laughs, her hand finding mine again. We head back to the living room and leave my bed, with all of its tantalizing promises, to itself.

She jumps onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter. “So?” she says. “What is this thing that I apparently said a relationship has to contain?”

I start rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. “Cooking dinner.”

The smile that spreads across her face makes it all worth it. “We’re cooking?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean… you’re cooking?”

I roll my eyes. “How hard can it be?”

“That depends entirely on what you want to make.” She makes to slide off the chair, and I raise a hand to stop her.

“I remember you specifically mentioning having a man cook for you.”

“But I want to participate.”

I rummage through one of the cabinets for a cutting board. “You can chop the potatoes.”

“Potatoes,” she repeats. “What are we making?”

It’s been years since I was nervous around a woman. Since I fretted about dates, or doubted my ability to charm. But here with her, I don’t know if what I’m offering is enough. “Steak and potatoes.”

“Very homey,” she says, accepting the knife and cutting board I give her. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Bad surprise?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. It just goes to show that more and more of my assumptions about you are flawed.”

“Maybe not all that flawed. This will be the first time in… a while, that I’ve cooked in this kitchen.”

“I’m glad I’m a part of this momentous occasion, then.”

I grin. “Yes, you should feel honored.”

She sits at the kitchen island and occasionally chops, occasionally gives helpful pointers, as I prepare our food. Her chin rests in her hand, her smart mouth teasing and encouraging, and quick to laughter. A deep sense of contentment spreads through me. It’s heady, stronger even than the lust. She’s here in my space with me.

We eat at my kitchen table. The lit candles send flickers of flame across her skin and her curls fall softly around her face.

“This,” she says, “is really good.”

I look down at our food. Potatoes and meat. It looks bare, somehow… I hadn’t made a salad. No vegetables. And—oh Lord. “I think I forgot sauce.”

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