I ditched my shoes next to Ethan’s at the front door and took three steps inside. “Something that makes your mouth burn can’t really be considered—what the actual fuck?”
“What?” Ethan looked around for a threat.
“What is this?” I gestured to the house.
He looked at the living room in front of us. Then back at me. He was seriously confused. “A house?”
“This is amini mansion, Cupcake.” I gestured to the sleek modern couches, expensive-looking fireplace, and fancy tile floors. Even the freaking wolf-sized doggy door on the far wall looked like it cost as much as my car. “What the hell was yourreal job?”
“Investment.” He shrugged. “And I don’t think a mini mansion is a real thing. This is just a house.”
“An expensive house.”
“Aren’t all houses expensive?”
I released his hand and strode past him, my hand landing on my hip when I saw the insanity that was his kitchen.
Gorgeous dark cabinets.
Expensive stone countertops.
Top of the line appliances.
Was it getting hot in there?
I fanned myself, because it definitely was.
“Are you getting horny for my kitchen?” Ethan sounded amused.
“Maybe. In my defense, it’s romancing meveryeffectively.”
“Should we get back in the car?”
“Probably.” I walked toward the fridge and smoothed my hand over the stainless steel with a sigh. “I miss being a real chef.”
“You went to culinary school. Pretty sure that makes you a real chef.”
“I know. It just doesn’t feel like it. When I was working in a restaurant, that felt like being a real chef. I miss the hustle, the noise, and the smells. Lord, thesmells.” I inhaled, and I swear I could almost smell it still.
“Why don’t you go back?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it, Muffin.”
I shot him a look. “We’re not there yet.”
“Are we going to get there?”
“Beats me.” I walked to his monstrous pantry, opening the door and stepping inside.
His snack stash took up all but a small part of one shelf. He had a couple of boxes of pasta, and some rice. That was it.
“What do you eat?” I wondered.
“Sadness, mostly.”
I snorted.
