“What’s for dinner?”I stepped up beside Liam, who stood in just his towel as he rifled through the pantry.
“Checking out options,” he said as I pulled close to him, pretending to help him search, when really, it was just an excuse to get closer to him. The way he glanced at me, it seemed he’d picked up on my trick, as he had throughout other moments when I’d find myself inching just a little too close—or just close enough, as far as I was concerned.
“Pretty Thing, what do you have a taste for?”
As my eyes drifted to where my interest lay, he snickered. “You’re so predictable sometimes.”
“Admit it: you set me up for that one.”
“Maybe because I needed the assurance.”
He was as playful as ever with me, seeming to have let his defenses down slightly since he’d opened up about his past.
Or was that just in my mind?
It was hard to tell the difference between what I believed about Liam and what I desperately wanted to believe—both existed as such potent desires within me.
“I don’t mind giving you any assurance you need,” I told him.
“Just a little help with dinner will be enough for now.”
And I offered it to him as we worked together.
We were a good team in the kitchen, and each meal meant more than the last as we found our natural rhythm, discovered our strengths and weaknesses, and even though it seemed such a trivial place to learn more about each other, it expressed so much about each of us and the simple fact that we enjoyed working together.
