Page 32 of Keeping Ava

There’s a plea there, and that’s a first. The normally demanding detective is asking, not telling.

“Yes.” A whisper. An agreement to give in, even though I know it’ll be a mistake.

“Thank you.” His hand comes up and caresses my cheek before stepping back, and it’s with this slight separation that I feel the flower now in my hand. The petals are soft and skimming across my skin. “Now, how about you explain all of this?”

And I blush, lips parting as I try to come up with a good enough excuse to explain what I’ve done. Moreover, I’ve done a lot of it.

“How about you explain when you bought all the bakeware and ingredients?”

“Grocery store app and delivery service.”

“I was only in the shower for an hour.”

“And I ordered it while we stopped to get ice cream on the pier. It was plenty of time for them to deliver with a small extra charge.”

Handsome devil has an answer for everything.

“Hungry?” I ask then, changing the subject.

“Are we hosting a party I wasn’t aware of?” he counters, and for a split second his eyes lower, taking in the thin fabric clinging to me. I watch as he licks those lips, and when those orbs meet mine again, there’s hunger there. Yearning. “And yes, I could eat.”

It causes my thighs to clench and panties to dampen. For my body to flush with heat and desire.

God help me keep my hands to myself. Must not touch or kiss or lick him.

“That’s a bit dramatic, Elijah,” I force out instead, and he just raises a brow as my blush deepens. “Fine. You said to have fun, and I went nuts. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked—really wanted to—and I made a few of my favorites. Besides...” I wave a hand toward the three desserts already cooling and then the oven “...it’s just a simple meal. A tiny way for me to thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“You didn’t have to do—”

“I wanted to.”

“If you’ll let me finish…” he mock glares, “…you’ll know that I’m thankful you did. I’m starving, and it smells amazing in here.”

“Good.” With that, I turn once more and open a cabinet nearby. “Do you have a vase?”

“Not a small one, but there might be something we can use.” His deep timbre is at my ear, his front almost touching my back as he reaches overhead to pull out a tall drinking glass. Placing it beside my hand on the marble, he nudges it and then removes himself completely. “That should work.”

“Yeah, that works.” I busy myself with filling it, placing the flower inside, and making sure that it’s leaning just right. “Food will be ready soon, and I hope you love enchiladas. I made them three ways like my mother did: green, red, and white sauce. Two with chicken and one shrimp.”

“Love them. What do you need me to do?”

“Can you set the table?”

“Setting tables is my talent.” When I throw him a quizzical look over my shoulder, he just shrugs. “Something my mother made sure I knew how to do. It’s my job at every family dinner.” Elijah grabs what he needs without another word and walks out toward the dining room, leaving me alone to collect myself, calm my breathing, and pull our dinner from the oven.

It’s totally cute that his mother taught him that.

Not helping my situation...

He also gets brownie points for the flower.

I have to resist him.

“Hey, do you need help carrying that in here?” he calls out from the other room, and I almost bang my head on his cabinet. He’s thoughtful, sweet, a bit cocky, and sexy in that unique way only a real man can pull off.

“No, I got it.” Looking down at myself, I realize that I’m still in a wet shirt and rush out to my room. That’s what he does to me; I’m not paying a lick of attention, and that just won’t do. I’m in and out in seconds, clean tank top on, and stop at the hall bath to splash a bit of water on my face.

When I come back, the three small trays are gone and so are the sides of rice, beans, guacamole, and pico. From the kitchen I can hear the clang of a serving spoon as he scoops up a portion and I follow, entering his dining area and finding an intimate setting already in place.

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