We meander into the living room for dessert; he’s adorablynervous as I try each ice cream and deliberate the merits of each as though I’m a judge onMasterChef. In reality, the only way to improve upon his recipe is if I could eat it off him instead.
“I think that was the greatest meal I’ve ever had.” I sigh, leaning back into the sofa as my leg grazes his.
He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t flatter me. I can do a lot better than that if you gave me the chance.”
I ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach at the almost ask out; the moment holds for a dangerously long time until heat washes over me. Warren Buffet chooses to be the ultimate wingwoman and appears with the cutest little mew I’ve ever heard.
She saunters up to Oliver and brushes her face against his legs. Her fluffy tail curls around his calf like she’s claiming him, her purr intensifying as her mouth opens. Like she knows I was moments away from wrapping myself around him.
“I think it’s dinnertime,” he says to both of us. “Gimme one minute.”
He strokes a palm along her back as he lifts himself off the sofa, and she jovially pads after him. I can’t help a smile creeping across my face when I hear him talking to her in the kitchen.
“Were you just having a conversation with Warren Buffett?” I suck in my cheeks, trying not to laugh.
When he reenters the room, he holds his hands out incredulously. “I had to explain to her what I made.”
“Oh my god, did you makeherdinner too?”
He runs a hand over his face, reclaiming the seat next to me. “Okay I will admit something if you promise to never tell another soul.”
The sofa dips slightly, and I let it draw me closer to him as I mimic crossing my heart.
He tugs at his shirt sleeve. “Dominic insists she needs to be on a special diet, which has to be freshly prepared twice a day.”
I cough out a laugh. “Is she one of the weird designer-breed cats or something?”
“No, she’s from a shelter. They found her on her own in a trash can as a kitten.”
My chest twinges at the idea of her as a sad little kitten—how lucky she was to be found.
I clear my throat. “And what’s on the menu tonight?”
“Chicken liver.” His mouth tightens into a straight line.
“Gross. I think what you made me was better.” Not that it’s a competition, but I’m oddly envious of her getting to see him every day.
He holds out a hand. “Hey, don’t knock my cat cooking. I’m pretty sure my cooking is the best thing she’s ever tasted.”
“Lucky girl, having you tend to her every night.” The two words leave me in a way I didn’t intend, making me blush.
He huffs a laugh, shyly looking down at his drink.
I try to change the subject. “And what’s the best thingyou’veever tasted?” I take a sip of my Negroni, the acidity dancing across my tongue a stark contrast to the velvety ice cream.
He opens his mouth on a silent laugh, then closes it, tilting his head my way with a devilish look. “There is one thing, but I haven’t tried it yet.”
“Why not?” I say, running the edge of the glass with my finger.
He shifts his weighted gaze back to the tumbler in his lap. “Bad timing.” He smiles behind the glass before taking a sip, letting the crest of the orange liquid linger on his mouth.
I take in a deep breath. “And if you had all the time in the world?”
He cuts a look to my lips. “You really wanna know?”
I swallow, nodding as my nerves crackle.
His shoulders shift as he moves toward me in a slow, smooth motion, taking the drink out of my hand and placing it on the coffee table with a clink. His gaze explores my face, hazel eyes flicking up from my lips. “It still wouldn’t be enough.”
