“It’s okay, I just didn’t expect to see someone right then, hang on a sec.”
Her phone was propped up on the shelf over the sink. As Turner watched, she leaned in close with her face, and the music shut off.
“Did you just kiss your phone?”
No, do not be jealous of that phone. Do not be that guy.
“Tip of my nose,” she said with a slight smile. “Otherwise I’ll get flour everywhere. Is everything okay?”
“Just fine, but I was wondering if I could convince you to make an appearance. Maisey's being really good, but you should never depend on the good behavior of any animal about to give birth.”
“I was helping my cousin when her kid was born. You shouldn’t expect good behavior from humans in that situation either. I can come in just a sec.”
“Thank you. Er. Can I ask what that thing is?”
She blinked at him, and, when he pointed, she burst into laughter. It made him smile in response, and she shook her head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make fun of you. But you mean this?”
She patted the sleek machine as affectionately as he might pet a dog, and he nodded.
“Come here. I’ll show you.”
He watched as she stopped by the stove to turn off the heat under the pots and then dumped a mound of dryingredients into the machine’s silver bowl, following it with a bowl full of something liquid. With the flick of a switch, it hummed to life with the mechanical sound he had heard earlier. The steel attachment mixing the dough spun with a spiraling motion so hypnotic he had to tear his eyes away, and his mate laughed again, more gently this time.
“It got you, huh? It’s not just you. If I’m really tired, I can just stare into the batter ‘til the dough’s been ruined. What’s worse is if you try to stick your hand in there.” Her eyes grew serious. “Never stick your hand in there.”
“I’ve worked with heavy machinery, I know better,” he promised. “But is that all it is? A big blender?”
She gave him a faintly scandalized look.
“It’s astand mixer,and it can do a lot of things, among them, blending, but this one’s equipped with a paddle attachment. It handles cookie dough like no one’s business, case in point.”
She switched the machine off, and showed him the dough, which looked, to be fair, like cookie dough to him. Briskly, she dumped it into a clean bowl, covered it with plastic wrap, and shoved it in the fridge where it joined another three bowls similarly wrapped.
“I twisted my shoulder really badly a few years ago,” she said, almost embarrassed. “These things are like magic for me when I have to do big batch baking.”
“Which shoulder?” Turner asked without thinking, and, when she gestured to her right, he reached for her instinctively and then hesitated.
“Can I?” The thought came to him that it was too much, too soon, but with her eyes never leaving his, his true mate nodded.
His hand lit down gently on her shoulder, closing with care. Underneath his hand, he could feel her shift, and he marveled at the play of muscles there—his wolf made a pleased sound in his head at his mate’s strength.
She sighed when he tightened his hand experimentally, rolling his fingers in light circles and then more firm ones. Her eyes drifted shut, and there was a moment when the pink tip of her tongue slipped between her lips and she became the next thing to irresistible. He might have kissed her again right there, but eyes closed, she whispered, “don’t stop.”
“I won’t, honey, not ’til you tell me.”
That earned him the smallest, softest whimper that shook him straight through the core, and she leaned against him as he worked, finding the knot underneath the muscle and trying to prise it loose. In another moment, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, and his arm came up around her. He could smell her sharp, minty shampoo; he could smell the butter and sugar she had been using; he could smell her skin underneath it; and he must have made a sound because she sighed with soft agreement, pressing closer.
“I want,” she started, and when she cut herself off, he pressed his cheek to the top of her head.
“Go on, baby.”
“I want to kiss you again. But it fries my brain, and I don’t want that right now.”
He expected his wolf to howl at that one, but instead it only made a satisfied sound.
Our mate knows her mind. Good.
