“Because I want tonight to be perfect.”
“Baby, come here,” he pressed. I went there, and he wrapped an arm around me, setting one of his crutches against the wall. “Why do you want tonight to be perfect?”
“Why wouldn’t I want tonight to be perfect?” I challenged.
“Sweetness, you’re puttin’ too much pressure onyourself.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. Let’s just cook and then see where the night leads. If it just ends with us makin’ out, then that’s good, right?”
“But I shaved... um... things.”
“Things?”
“Everything,” I rasped.
He raised an eyebrow. “Shit, everything?”
“Everything.”
“Okay, we’ll put a pin in that,” he said. “But you need to take the pressure off. We’ve got time. If it’s not tonight, we’ll find another night.”
“How are you so Zen about this?”
He leaned down and kissed me gently. “You’re worth the wait.”
“Okay, if I didn’t love you before, I definitely love you now.”
Gio chuckled. “You’re easy.”
I slid my hand around his waist. “Easy’s my middle name.”
He smirked, kissing me again. “What are we makin’?”
“Well, I figured we’d have a do over of the fried chicken. And I’ve already made that apple pie again. Sound good?”
“Yeah, baby, that sounds great.”
“Are you going to be okay standing on your leg? I can set you up with a step stool. It’ll give you a little more height than a regular chair.”
“That’d probably be helpful.”
I grinned, grabbing the step stool from the closet,and after he washed his hands, he parked himself in front of the kitchen island so he could help make the biscuit dough.
“How’s that shoulder?” I asked after he’d been kneading for a few minutes.
“It’s good.”
I finished peeling the potatoes, then stepped over to him and cupped his chin. “You tell me if that changes, okay?”
He chuckled. “I will.”
I leaned down and kissed him gently. “You better.”
“If I didn’t have dough all over my hands, I’d show you just how good my shoulder actually is.”
I grinned and went back to the chicken.
