“I’ve heard about global warming,” she muttered. “I was just thinking about it while I crawled back from work today.”
I could see her interest was genuine, so I continued. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a light topic. The planet’s on the line, and most people can’t—or don’t want to—see that far ahead. Long-term thinking is rare.” I caught myself getting worked up and waved a hand. “Anyway, the project uses satellite imagery, weather data, algorithms, all of it, to estimate evapotranspiration—basically water evaporating off the earth and plants. We’re building software to make that data usable for farmers, even people with zero technical background.”
To my surprise, she perked up. “That sounds great.”
“I know, right?” Heat crept up my neck. I usually lost people after the word ‘satellite.’ “It just… it feels good, you know? To make a difference, even if it’s small. Somebody has to believe humans won’t self-destruct. Somebody has to keep hoping we can turn things around and make Earth worth living on again.” I gave a short laugh and shook my head. “Listen to me—I sound like a stuffed-shirt preacher.”
Instead of the polite nod I expected, Jesse reached across the sheets and wrapped her hand around mine. Her grip was firm, her eyes steady and intense.
“You don’t,” she said, her voice low. “The world needs people like you. People who can think outside themselves and their own little problems, people who care about the big picture and what’s coming decades or centuries from now.”
The admiration in her words went straight through me. This woman got me. She saw beyond the façade, into my essence. Other than my sister, no one had ever seen me—the real me.
I squeezed her hand, my chest tight with emotion.
For that one moment, time stood still. Or maybe we did, as the world shifted lazily around us. But suddenly, her eyes widened and she jumped up, startled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, alert once more.
She looked almost panicked as she groped for her clothes. “I just realized how late it is. I really need to work, Sebastian. The exhibit’s coming up, and I’m behind and—”
I pressed a finger gently against her lips. “Hush. Go work. I’ll cook,” I added, brushing my thumb across her cheek before I let her go.
She rubbed her forehead, flustered. “I was kidding about that earlier. I’m not letting you cook for me alone. And besides, I don’t even know if my kitchen has half the stuff you’d need.”
I swung out of bed, hunting for my jeans. Taking care of her felt natural, instinctive. “Don’t worry about that. I cook for myself anyway. It’s not much more effort to cook for two.”
By the time I had my jeans buttoned, I caught her watching me, her gaze lingering on my chest, the sheet slipping lower around her. That small detail made heat curl in my stomach. I liked what I was doing to her. I wanted to keep that fire burning in her eyes forever.
“Okay,” she said finally, almost shyly. “Thank you. I’ll just take a quick shower, then get back to work.”
“Perfect. I’ll check out your kitchen, see if I need to grab anything from upstairs.”
I bent to kiss her before leaving, slow and lingering, tasting the sweetness of her mouth one more time. Then I headed for my place, already planning dinner.
After a quick shower and grabbing a few essentials from upstairs, I came back down and found her bathroom door closed, water hissing behind it. The sound of her shower stirred images I shoved firmly aside—at least until I got dinner on the table.
Her kitchen was sparse but functional. A woman who lived on takeout and coffee, clearly. I rolled up my sleeves and set to work. Tonight’s menu was spaghetti all’Amatriciana—simple, comforting, but when done right, it was magic.
I chopped and stirred, a smile tugged at my lips. This wasn’t about the pasta. It was about creating something special for her, about being part of her evening, her life. She was in the next room sketching, bringing her visions to paper, and I was here cooking. It felt right.
I dimmed the lights, lit a single candle I’d found tucked in a drawer, poured two glasses of wine. This wasn’t me staging my usual seduction routine. It was so much more than that. This mattered. I wanted tonight to feel special for her—for us.
When I heard her workroom door creak open, I set down the serving spoon and looked up.
“Dinner’s ready, dear,” I called.
Her answering grin lit up her whole face as she crossed the room. She kissed me, quick and playful, teeth grazing my bottom lip. “I can see that. It smells divine.”
“I hope you like spaghetti all’Amatriciana.” I gestured toward the steaming plates, proud as hell of how they looked.
“It looks amazing. What’s in it?”
I counted the ingredients on my fingers.”Tomatoes, guanciale, pecorino Romano, olive oil, and a drizzle of white wine. Simple, but delicious when done right.”
I pulled out her chair, ridiculously pleased when she sat with that pampered little smile. God help me, this was all I wantedright now—to take care of her, to make her happy, to worship at her sexy feet.
“Thank you, Sebastian.” She sipped her wine, eyes soft. “I owe you.”
