I’d always felt kind of weird that we didn’t kiss with an open mouth and tongue, but just thought it was yet another one of his odd tendencies and hadn’t made a big deal about it.
But maybe I should have.
Maybe I should’ve made a big deal about all of the things that bothered me when it came to him.
“Where’d you buy this soup?” he asked.
I scoffed. “I didn’t buy anything. I made it.”
“Really?” He looked at me over his shoulder.
“Really,” I confirmed, staring into those eyes that made me want to take a deep dive into an ice cream sundae full of butterscotch and caramel. “Everything I make is from scratch.”
He turned then. “Are you Able that makes the food for your whole crew?”
I grinned. “Mable. And yes.”
“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He chuckled. “Most of the crew under Prater wants to switch to that crew, because all the guys that switch over to ours talk about you and your breakfasts non-stop.”
“They pay for it, so it’s not like I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Do you like to cook?” he asked.
“I love it,” I admitted as I reached for another chip. “I sometimes wish I could own a restaurant, but I think that’ll be too much work. Really, I just love to cook. I want to cook, feed people, and then not have to do any of the extra like hiring workers, payroll, and tax stuff. If that makes any sense.”
“All of the fun, and none of the responsibility.” He nodded. “You willing to cook for the lumberjack crew while you’re with us?”
My lips twitched. “How many of you are there?”
“Ten. Two crews of five.”
“As long as they pay me enough money to buy the supplies and ingredients, I’m all for it,” I offered.
He groaned when he took another bite. “I’d pay you two hundred bucks a week to make me food for breakfast and lunch.”
I snorted. “That’s the dream. Maybe one day.”
“Why not now?”
“No stability?” I shrugged. “This place has great benefits, and I’m sorry, but insurance costs way too damn much when you have to get it independently. At least through the employer they pay some of it.”
“True,” he agreed. “Very true. Insurance costs are through the fuckin’ roof right now. If I didn’t do such a dangerous job, I might skip it, too.”
He finished off the last of the soup and sandwich, then handed everything back to me.
I shoved it into my box, then pulled out dessert.
“What is that?”
I handed him a cookie and said, “If you tell anyone I let you have one, I’ll never cook you food ever again.”
He took the cookie and opened the brown paper, groaning. “Chocolate chip oatmeal with caramel?”
“Butterscotch,” I corrected him. “I was in a butterscotch mood this week.”
He broke off a piece and brought it to his mouth.
The groan that left his lips had me wanting to throw myself at him.
