After a few minutes of mixing, the dough started to pull away from the walls of the bowl. In a few more minutes, it was a smooth ball thwapping around the bowl.
“Well, that wasn’t hard at all.” I pressed a tentative fingertip to the ball of dough, smiling to myself when it sprung back to normal. “What do we do now?” I glanced up and caught Ford watching me as if I were the most fascinating creature in the world and he wanted nothing more than to study me. It was disconcerting, and I felt my cheeks heat inresponse to his attention.
“Now,” he said, draping one of the checked linen tea towels Elena had picked out for me over the bowl holding the ball of dough. “We wait.”
He leaned back against the counter like he had all the time in the world while I tried to keep my focus off the way his soft gray T-shirt stretched over his chest. His jeans rode low on his hips in a way that made me want to slide my hands under the waistband to grab the tight ass I’d dug my heels into when we fucked.
I needed to get a grip. Not literally. Definitely not literally.
“How long?” Surely I could avoid running my hands over the flat planes of his stomach for fifteen minutes or so. Even in my butter-stroking weakened state, I could hold out for that long.
“Two hours. Give or take.”
––––––––
I’D HAVE PAID good money to have a picture of the expression on Charlotte’s face when I told her it would take two hours for the dough to be ready. I’d make it the screen saver on every device I owned. Her eyes were wide, rimmed with inky-black lashes, and her lips made a deep pink O of surprise. She was literally wide-eyed and so beautiful it made my chest a little tight.
“That’s not fair. What are we supposed to do for two hours?”
I arched a brow at her so she’d know I had many ideas about how to spend our time.
“We have to give the yeast a chance to work. Otherwise we’ll end up with flat beignets and that would be a travesty. Let’s start with café au lait and work our way up from there.”
Charlotte had one of those fancy coffeemakers that looked like the helm of a space ship. I was partial to the octagonal stovetop pot I’d had since college, but I could certainly appreciate her upgraded version. I filled the small cup with some of the espresso groundchicory coffee I’d brought with me and turned the machine to brew. In a few minutes, I had two shots of espresso and a small metal pitcher of steamed milk.
I grabbed a pair of thick white mugs from the cupboard and the bottle of homemade orange vodka I’d brought with me, and started assembling the café au lait. I’d spent my first two semesters in college working as a barista. I still had the moves to prove it. I put a splash of liquor in each cup and topped it with the espresso, releasing the delicious aroma of orange and coffee. Charlotte stepped closer and breathed in the scent, which fit perfectly into my evil plan. The woman might stay wrapped up tight on the outside but she had a deep sensual side. All it took was a little coaxing, and she bloomed like the yeast. Which was a weird comparison and one I didn’t intend to make ever again.
I poured the foamy milk into the cup, lifting and pulling through as I got to the end to make a heart shape on the surface of the coffee.
“I’ve always wondered how they did that. Teach me, Yoda.” Charlotte bumped my hip with hers and reached for the pitcher.
“Only if you promise never to call me Yoda again.” I gave a theatrical shudder before handing her the milk.
I wanted to wrap my arm around her and help her with the milk like every bad pool shot pickup ever filmed. My body curled around her. My hand went over hers, guiding her movements as I leaned into her. Charlotte was sexy as hell on a normal day but turned on to something she wanted to learn about made her irresistible. And I had to resist her if I didn’t want her to put the brakes on our time together.
“Like this?” She mirrored my earlier movement with her hand, glancing up when I didn’t answer to meet my gaze with her big blue eyes.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Exactly like that. See...it’s making rings. Now pull through to the opposite rim.”
She did as I instructed and let out a triumphant sound when the heart appeared on the surface of the cup.
“I did it!”
“Yes, you did.” I gave myself a moment to smile at her before reaching for my café au lait. Better to have something in my hands to keep from reaching for her. “Let’s go sit down while we wait for the dough to rise.”
“Give me a minute to put this stuff in the dishwasher.”
“I can help with that.” I started to set down my cup, but she held a hand up to stop me. “I don’t want you to think I’ve got some kind of misogynistic dish aversion.”
“Well, that’s adorable,” she said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got more experience washing dishes than I do. Not because I think I’m above it. Because this is the most action my kitchen has ever seen. Go sit down, Ford. I can handle it.”
I thought about making anactioncomment, reconsidered, and crossed the few steps from the kitchen to the living room while Charlotte stacked the dishes. I paused at her bookshelves for a moment—closed off now behind pickled oak cabinet doors—but it was the e-reader sitting on the table next to an overstuffed chair that caught my interest. The chair looked surprisingly comfortable for the designer space, and I imagined Charlotte curled up in it, losing herself in whatever book was on her current list.
The image was followed by the completely irrational desire to keep her stocked with café au lait and anything else she wanted while I read in the sofa across from her. Or even better, feet propped up on the ottoman with Charlotte’s head resting on my lap, my hand stroking her hair as we read together. I could use my thumb to smooth the crease from her forehead, the one she got when she was concentrating on something. That kind of domestic scene was far from my normal fantasy fare, but the longing was as real—and unexpected—as anything I’d ever felt. It pulled me up short and had me planning all kinds of things that didn’t fit into our arrangement.
“You can sit down,” Charlotte said, saving me from myself.
