Page 14 of Wrecked

“When we get back to your place, I can stay and cook you dinner. If you want. I’m sure you haven’t had a homecooked meal since you got to town.” He nods toward the meat counter. “We could grab some steaks. And we could backtrack to the produce department and get some potatoes. You like mashed potatoes?”

“Yeah.” The guy who can’t decide if he wants to kiss me or not is now offering to cook me dinner? I don’t get it. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

He nods, and the matter is settled. “I’ll need plenty of seasonings.”

After my shopping cart is filled to the brim, we head to the checkout. Cooper’s still pushing the cart, and this feels oddly domestic. As I walk beside him, I feel a strange sensation in my gut, a sort of anticipation. I’m practically giddy, like this is a first date with a guy I’m crazy about.

Only it isn’t a date.

Far from it.

When we’re in line at the check-out, I grab a few candy bars from the rack.

Cooper watches me with a hint of a smile but says nothing.

“What?” I ask, feeling defensive. “It’s chocolate.”

After I pay for my haul, Cooper pushes the cart out to his SUV. He opens the back and starts loading my groceries into his vehicle. I join him, and together we unload the cart.

He likes to take care of people.

This gruff, masculine, dominant man likes to take care of others. And right now, he’s taking care ofme.

“Thanks,” I say when we’re done loading the bags into the SUV.

He gazes at me, his blue eyes penetrating deep. “It’s no problem.” He nods to the vehicle. “Get in. I’ll take the buggy back.”

I watch him walk across the parking lot to return the cart, admiring the way he carries himself. The confident swagger. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his ass in a pair of worn blue jeans. Something warm flutters in my belly. I’m already getting hard.

When he gets in the vehicle, I shift in my seat in an effort to hide my growing erection. The last thing I need is for him to know I’m mooning over him.

* * *

Back at the apartment building, Cooper borrows a cart to load my groceries onto so we can take them all up in one trip.

While I put everything away, Cooper starts gathering supplies for dinner.

“Is there something I can do?” I ask.

He gets a big pot out of one of the bottom cabinets and puts it in the sink to fill. “You can wash the potatoes and cut ’em up.” He gestures to the knife rack on the counter. “Grab a knife there, and I’m sure you’ll find a cutting board in one of the drawers.”

While I’m dumping the potatoes into a pot of boiling water, Cooper goes out onto the balcony and lights the gas grill. I watch as he retrieves the steaks, which he already seasoned, and takes them out to the grill.

I join him on the balcony and hand him a cold bottle of beer.

“Thanks.” He glances at the label. “Did you know Goose Island is a local brewery?”

“Yeah. I saw a sign that said it was local, so I thought I’d try it.”

He nods as if he approves.

While the steaks are cooking, Cooper checks on the potatoes. When they’re done, he drains them, adds butter, sour cream, and seasonings, and starts mashing.

“I can do that part at least,” I say. “I’m not completely useless in the kitchen.”

Grinning, he hands me the masher and goes out to get the steaks.

A few minutes later, we’re seated at the small kitchen table. I grab us two more bottles of beer and bring them to the table.