I straightened and turned to face Ben. Though he was wearing a shirt now, his hair was still damp and messy, and he was barefoot.
He looked edible.
He also smelled better than the barbeque because my mouth immediately watered when his scent hit me.
I managed to speak without drooling. "As long as I don't have to fix whatever I eat, I'm happy. Even if it's a fried bologna sandwich."
Ben grimaced, which made me laugh.
"Not a fan of fried bologna?" I asked.
"Ate way too many of them when I was learning to cook. If dinner turned out too burnt to eat, that's what I would have."
"Must have happened a lot," I murmured.
"You have no idea."
He moved to the fridge and pulled out a couple of white containers and a hard cider. "Thanks for bringing drinks."
I nearly teased him about those being mine, but said instead, "Hope you like it."
Ben cracked the tab on the can and sipped as he took the lids off the containers to reveal potato salad and coleslaw that looked fresh and delicious.
"Can I help?" I asked, desperately needing something to do besides watching him move around the kitchen looking like sex on a stick in that snug tee.
"Sure. Can you grab some plates and silverware? I'll need some big spoons for the sides. Four, I think."
He'd fed me often enough in this kitchen that I already knew where everything was. I got out two plates and forks, along with forks and spoons for the meat and side dishes. I also grabbed a couple of paper towels. Eating barbeque would be messy.
"You want the brisket as is or on a bun?" he asked when I handed him the plates.
Oh, man. There was nothing I liked better than a barbeque brisket sandwich.
"On a bun."
He grinned at me and made my sandwich. Then, he laughed when I took the plate from him and pried the top off the sandwich so I could pile some coleslaw on top of the meat. If he'd had fries, I would have added a few on it, too.
"Are you a Yankee?" he asked, his tone teasing.
"Nope, but the best barbeque sandwich I've ever had was loaded with slaw and fries, so I always try to recreate it whenever possible."
"I'll be sure to get the cheddar fries next time then."
"They have cheddar fries?" I asked, lifting my head to look at him.
Ben chuckled again. "Yeah, but I never get them because they go straight to my gut."
They'd go straight to my ass, but if they were made right, they were more than worth it.
It was probably a good thing I wasn't a decent cook because I'd weigh six hundred pounds. I had no willpower when it came to food.
"You'd look hot with a gut," I said.
He laughed again but I was being completely honest. Benjamin Murphy would be hot even if he didn't have the muscles and was balding. He had an innate magnetism that drew women's eyes to him. The way he moved, the way he looked at you, it was hypnotic and addictive. Though his toned body didn't hurt, what made him sexy went so much deeper.
I smooshed the top back on my sandwich and dished out some potato salad and macaroni and cheese on my plate.
"Bar or couch?" he asked.
