“Yes, and I’m not sure it’s as cool as Dueling Dragons, but thanks. With a name like Eden, I figured I might as well play it up.”
So far, she’d spoken very little of her parents and only mentioned her brother once. I didn’t want to dig too deep, not when things were still light and easy between us, but I hoped she might throw me a few crumbs.
“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but it sounds like a hippie name,” I ventured.
She scoffed. “My parents are far from hippies. They’re extremely religious. Like, a woman’s place is in the home, wearing long skirts and having lots of babies and being subservient to her husband.”
“Hence the assumption I’d want a woman to cook and clean for me,” I said softly. When she nodded, I grimaced. “Shit, I’m sorry. That had to be tough.”
“We don’t have much of a relationship. It’s fine. I had Addie’s parents growing up, and they always treated me like I was one of their own.”
Running a hand over my beard, I said, “I guess your parents aren’t terribly supportive of you owning a business then, huh?”
“Being thirty-two and unmarried? Not supportive. Going to college instead of finding a godly man to guide me with a firm hand? Not supportive. Owning a store that sells sinful, immodest lingerie? Unforgivable. Needless to say, I haven’t told them and have no intention of doing so.”
“Eden,” I murmured, rubbing my thumb over the soft skin under her ear. “You’re an incredible human being and that store is already a smashing success. Your parents are the idiots missing out on all that is you.”
She sucked in a breath and dropped her forehead so it hit my shoulder. Though she didn’t speak, her shoulders shuddered under my other hand. It was a long moment before she lifted her head again and met my eyes.
“I don’t want to give them another minute of this time with you,” she said firmly.
“Then we’ll stop talking about them.”
Her resulting smile was a bit tentative, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful—or any less tempting. I gave in and kissed her, slow and soft and sweet, until I knew she was as tempted as I was to forget all about her parents, about dinner, about everything outside of the two of us.
When I lifted my head, I bit back a triumphant grin at her dazed expression, brushed my thumb over the flush in her cheek, and set about serving up our dinner.
This is a marathon,I reminded myself.
Then again, I’d never been a very good runner. Maybe a few little sprints were a fine addition to my slow but steady jogtoward the future. I had long legs—I could even manage a few hurdles in my way.
Most likely, I’d have to let Eden decide our pace as we journeyed onward, and if the look in her eyes was anything to go by, she had some very definite ideas about that.
Chapter Twelve
Eden
Milowasaphenomenalcook. I ate two servings of rice pilaf and made him give me the recipe, but it was dessert that tipped me over the edge.
The man had made us chocolate chip cookies. From scratch.
We brought the container of cookies over to the couch, agreed on a superhero movie we’d both already seen, and somehow ended up overstuffed and stretched out along the length of the sofa. Milo’s head was on the armrest, mine on his chest, with my body tucked between him and the back cushions.
Sometime before the hero triumphed in his final battle against the villain, I fell asleep. The sun was shining when I reluctantly peeled my eyes open, only to see that Milo had extricated himself from under me and was in the midst of tucking a blanket around my shoulders.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I was going to leave you a note. I need to go over and open the shop, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. You looked so sweet, I didn’t want to wake you.”
I rubbed my eyes, then realized he was wearing glasses with thick black frames. “Oh my god. I didn’t think you could get any hotter, now this?”
Milo laughed. “I didn’t put my contacts in yet. Shockingly, I might have overslept a bit, thanks to an excellent couch companion. You’re an expert snuggler, you know.”
“Hmm. I should go.” I burrowed under the blanket while my brain slowly fired up, not quite getting the memo that my body should be moving off the couch instead of sinking into it.
“Seriously, stay as long as you like. There’s coffee, cookies. Cereal, uh, maybe some PopTarts.”
“Coffee?” The endearment warmed me even more than the blanket, but coffee was my morning lifeblood.
Milo’s beard twitched as he grinned. “Yes, coffee. C’mon, I’ve got enough time to have a cup with you before I go.”
