Page 83 of Just So You Know, I Don't Work Friday

I wasn’t sure where that had come from. I just knew that I was continuing to dig my own grave.

“You won a culinary competition?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, for my beef stew.”

I swallowed hard. That was stupid. Would beef stew ever win a competition?

“Beef stew?” he said. “That must have been some beef stew.”

“It was. It was a—”

“Let me guess,” he said, smirking, “a family recipe, a la Campbell style.”

“Well, yes,” I snipped. “Can I help it if my grandma Campbell was the best cook in the South?”

“I guess you can’t. So are you comparing yourself to the likes of Paula Deen and—”

“Oh, I would never say that,” I said quickly, cutting him off. I didn’t need to get myself in more trouble than I had. “What I’m asking is for you to give me another opportunity, then, and another chance to make this right. I know we have this crazy sexual chemistry, and you want me just as badly as I want you, but—”

“I want you just as badly as you want me?” he said, chuckling. “Okay.”

“Well, I mean, it’s obvious that you do. You keep inviting me into these rooms and wanting to touch me and kiss me and—”

“I think you’re the one that got on my lap. You’re the one that’s kissed me. You’re the one that’s grabbed my cock. You’re the—”

“Really?” I said, raising a single eyebrow. “You didn’t want to make things interesting? You didn’t want to slam one home for—”

“Slam one home?” He stared at me in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Is that not a term you guys have for having sex?”

“Slam one home,” he repeated again. “Maybe college guys, but that’s not a phrase I’m familiar with.”

“I mean, does it matter anymore?”

“I guess not,” he said. “So does this mean that…”

“What?” I said.

“Does this mean I’m going to be able to knock one out of the park right now?”

“H-huh?” I stammered. “What does that mean?”

“The same thing as slam one home,” he said, stepping forward and pressing his lips against my forehead. I felt his hands moving up my waist toward my breasts and squeezing. “I’d quite like to slam one home right now if you know what I mean.”

I felt his hand move down toward my waist and then further still, until it was between my legs and rubbing slightly.Maybe.

“Finn,” I said, pushing him away, “not now. I need to check on the food in the kitchen, see what I can do.”

“Okay,” he said. “So you’re going to make sure everything’s going to be perfect?”

“Yeah. I might change up some of the dishes, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was thinking maybe I’ll whip up my famous fish and chips.”

“Your famous fish and chips?”

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