I chuckle lightly. “Honestly, that sounds pretty incredible.”
It was always one of my favorites when Mom made it. Comfort food. And I could really use the comfort tonight.
I close the distance between us and pull her away from the beam, pressing my lips against her cheek. “I missed you today.”
She smiles into my neck, her warm breath fanning my skin and making heat flare over it. “Did you?”
I pull back and nod, taking her face in my hands and kissing her lightly. “I was worried all day.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that.
Lucky doesn’t seem to want my concern. She wants to act like everything is fine, hoping that I’ll move on from wanting to know more about the things she won’t tell me.
But I don’t want to hold back from this woman.
Not about anything.
Certainly not about the way I feel about her.
She swallows thickly, still looking up at me with something in her eyes I can’t entirely place.
“Bluebell, why are you looking at me like that?”
Her brow furrows. “Like what?”
“Like you have something you want to say.”
She chews on her lip again, and I reach up and tug it free with my thumb.
“You have to stop doing that.”
“Why?”
A low rumbling growl vibrates in my chest. “Because every time you do, it makes me want to bend you over and fuck you. Hard.”
“Jesus.” Her cheeks redden even deeper, and she shakes her head. “You have a filthy mouth.”
I chuckle. “I have two older brothers.”
She laughs softly, nodding. “That’s true.” But her humor fades as her gaze dips down, then flicks back up. “The truth is, there is something I want to talk to you about.”
My chest tightens uncomfortably, wondering if she is finally going to tell me the very thing I’ve been dreading asking since I walked in. Knowing it’s likely to ruin this light, happy mood. “Okay, but let’s eat first.”
Just thirty minutes to enjoy her company and the meal she prepared and pretend nothing else exists.
She pulls out of my hold and slips back into the kitchen, walking over to the small counter and stove, where I see she’s already prepared one sandwich and has a second one ready to go. She sets it down in the frying pan, and the butter on the bread immediately sizzles.
I pull the lid off the pot and inhale the steam from the soup. “God, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
“Did you eat after breakfast?”
Shaking my head, I return the lid and lean against the counter. “No.”
“Why not?”
She eyes me, waiting for my response, and I am not about to tell her that I felt nauseated all day due to the combination of worrying about her and being up beyond the gorge.
“I kinda lost my appetite.”
