He reached up and squeezed my hands where they rested against his stomach. “It’s one dinner. We can survive one dinner.”
“You say that now. Just wait until Daniel starts talking about cryptocurrency.”
“Is that what he does?”
“I have no idea. But he seems like the type.”
Tom turned in my arms, and suddenly we were face to face, close enough that I could see the flecks of green in his eyes, the faint stubble along his jaw that suggested he hadn’t shaved this morning. Close enough to count his eyelashes if I wanted to. “You’re going to make me burn something,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound too reprimanding. He kissed me, slow and thorough, before pulling back far too soon. “Now let me cook before we end up ordering takeout again.”
I frowned, genuinely confused by the problem. “What’s wrong with takeout?”
Take-out was perfectly fine. My favorite thing in the world, even.
“Nothing’s wrong with it. But I told you I’d make you dinner.”
“You make me dinner all the time.”
“Real dinner. Not just pasta and jarred sauce.”
I smiled, stealing another quick kiss before releasing him. “Pasta and jarred sauce is real dinner. Some of us survived on it exclusively before meeting you.”
“Some of us have no sense of self-preservation.”
“Well, you’re feeding me now, aren’t you?”
“Someone has to.” Tom sighed, seemingly put-upon by my apparent lack of ability to feed myself.
I didn’t see the problem. Cooking was for people who didn’tget restless halfway through. Who didn’t wish they could crawl out of their skin after having to stay in one place for more than twenty minutes. Not to mention all those dirty dishes…
“My hero.” I kissed the corner of his mouth, letting my lips linger there for a moment before I forced myself to move away. The dinner was never going to get finished at this pace. “What would I do without you?”
“Starve, apparently.”
I laughed at his dry tone. “Probably. Although I made it most of my life without you, so I must have been doing something right.”
“Takeout and protein bars don’t count.”
“It’s a balanced diet!”
The kitchen was small enough that I could reach the drawer behind him without moving far. I pulled it open, looking for nothing in particular—just restless hands that needed occupation. Spoons rattled against spoons, clinking together like wind chimes.
“Also, you owe me money,” Tom told me, as if remembering just now.
I hummed questioningly, only half paying attention as I rummaged through the drawer’s contents.
“From our bet,” he explained. “You said Naomi and Daniel would break it off after a month. They’re still together, aren’t they?”
Memory clicked into place. I groaned. “I can’t believe you still remember that. That was like forever ago.”
“A bet is a bet, isn’t it?”
There was something smug in his expression, like he was proud of himself for being proven right. It just made me wanna kiss him some more.
“Fine. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m not a woman of my word.” I dug out my wallet and pulled out a crumpled bill. “Ten bucks, was it?”
He folded it neatly and slipped it into his back pocket. “Thank you,” he said, voice prim and proper in a way that made me want to laugh and bite him and maybe shove him a little, all at the same time. He’d been right before—I may have been a bit of a bully when I was younger, especially around a cute guy.
“You’re welcome.” I moved closer to the cutting board where vegetables lay scattered all over. “Now what can I do?”
