“Mmm. That will do nicely, though it might delay dinner a little.”
“I’m okay with delaying dinner. I’ll nibble on you instead.” And he did. His lips caressed her cheek, then lowered to graze the side of her neck.
A warm chuckle floated from her mouth. “Keep doing that and I might not be in any shape to cook dinner. You’re making my legs go wobbly.”
“Then, I must be doing something right.”
She leaned back against him and moaned, then straightened and pulled away. “Let me get this cooked, then we can neck all you want.”
Neck? Old fashioned but accurate. Her neck was exactly where he wanted to be. Digging into the grocery bags, he pulled out the wine and poured a glass for each of them. As she moved around his kitchen, they chatted some more. It was so refreshing not running out of conversation or having to listen to a woman who only talked about herself, shopping, or the country club gossip.
“How’s that patient from New Year’s Eve?”
“Physically recovering. The emotional part might take longer, but his father came out from Iowa and looks like he’ll take the child back home with him.”
“That’s a good thing?”
“I think so.” No sense dwelling on the negative. Today had been wonderful so far. “Now, let’s get this meal rolling. I think someone promised me some necking after.”
Even though she said she could do it herself, Blake enjoyed helping her cut up vegetables, boil water, and put together a salad. It was something he could see them doing in the future. Domestic had never looked so appealing.
The meal was delicious, and Blake insisted he clean it up since she cooked.
“But you also helped to cook, so that means I can help clean up.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“Of course. And the next answer is twenty-seven.”
He turned the water to hot and rinsed a dish. “What’s the question?”
Her quirky smile played around her lips. “It can be anything. Twenty-seven is always a good answer.”
“Like, ‘how old will you be on your next birthday?’” As she’d just had her birthday and he’d been at her folks’ house, he already knew the answer to this one.
She nodded. “See? Works every time.”
“How many times can I kiss you tonight?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Okay, but how many times will you kiss me?”
She licked her lips. “Twenty-seven. I might need to get more lip balm.”
“I might be persuaded to get you some, if you promise to kiss me fifty-four times.”
“Fifty-four? No, no. I’m only kissing you twenty-seven. You need to do the work for the rest.”
“If I must. For now, I’ll finish getting these dishes in the dishwasher.”
Carli brought the rest of the plates over and, after rinsing, put them in the machine. When he turned back, she was sitting at the table with a brightly wrapped box in front of her.
Wiping his hands on a dishrag, he plopped into the chair next to her “What’s this?”
“Your birthday present.”
“You just cooked me dinner and promised me twenty-seven kisses. Plus, I got a gift from you two weeks ago at Christmas. You didn’t need to get me anything else.”
