I busy myself by preparing all the food and making the salad first. Once I’m finished, I sprinkle the salmon for the grill with buttery herb seasoning and place it on the counter. I wash the sweet potatoes and put them in foil. Everything is ready to be cooked.
It sounds like she is still in the shower, which is great. She’s taking her time. I step onto the deck, uncover the grill, and light it. As I walk back into the house, my assistant texts me she’s here since I didn’t want her to ring the doorbell, so I turn around and walk out to meet her. She bought dessert and flowers.
“Thank you. I’ll see you later or tomorrow at the office.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your time.” She flashes me a grin.
She doesn’t come out and say what’s on her mind, but I can read her like a book. I wave and head back to the front door, andgo straight to the kitchen in search of a vase. Under the sink? Empty. Pantry? Still no luck.
How does this woman not have a flower vase? I get creative and find the biggest glass possible. The shears are in the knife butcher block. Snatching them, I cut the bottoms, fill the glass with water, and drop them in.
I finish cooking on the grill. While I’m setting the table for dinner, I hear Kendall’s feet hitting the stairs as she strolls into the kitchen. In her natural state, she takes my breath away. No makeup, her hair up off her shoulders, her neck begging me to kiss and suck it. And that fucking outfit—short, thin shorts, and a slender strap tank top, no bra.
Fuck me—no bra!
I stare, catching myself, and then make eye contact with her. The smirk on her face tells me she caught my eyes lingering on her pert breasts a little too long. Fucking hot though, my dick is twitching…but more than that, there’s warmth spreading throughout my chest. I think my heart might jump out of my chest.
“It’s hard to keep my hands off of you when you look like this.” My hands caress her bare shoulders and arms.
She smiles back at me with a shy grin.
THIRTY-FIVE
Kendall
With that look on his face as he rubs his beard, I know what he’s thinking. Those half-hooded caramel eyes stare at me as he cooks. If that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen—Dane, shirtless, cooking. I lick my lips, and it’s not because of the food he’s cooking. Eating him up could be my dinner if I weren’t completely exhausted and emotionally spent.
For those couple of minutes, we are not moving, mesmerized by each other.
He finally breaks the staring contest. “I may have raided your fridge and gone through all of your cabinets and drawers trying to find things.” He lays his hand on my hips.
I look around the deck and see a mason jar full of pink lilies.
How did he know those were my favorites?
My head whips around, staring directly at him. I’m silently asking how the hell he knew. “How?”
“I have my ways.”
“That answer is still cryptic.”
He wrapped a ribbon around the jar. I wonder if he looked at Pinterest, which seems out of character. The table is set withtwo place settings, fancy napkins with holders, wine glasses, and taper candles in the middle.
“Where did you get the fancy napkins, holders, and candles? I know for certain I didn’t have those lying around,” I question him with a hand on one hip.
One side of his lips tugs up. “You don’t need to know all my secrets.”
I give him a curious look, with one eyebrow raised. “Maybe not all of them.”
He slides the chair out and says, “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll finish dinner.”
I slide into the chair, staring at the flowers and watching him cook. He puts the salmon on, and the potatoes are cooking.
I’m racking my brain as to the last time a guy cooked for me. I don’t have any idea.
Dane seems to enjoy all of this. I actually kind of like it and could get used to him cooking for us—us. My body shivers at the thought. He has been occupying space in my head for a while, and it’s finally coming to fruition. I’m giddy about the prospect of us as we spend more and more time together.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
