Dog-Jason. Except he feels different. Even smells a little different. What the heck was he doing out back? His gait is even heavier. More irritated.
“Jason?” I ask, kneeling. “What is it boy? These are friends. They’re here to help me like you are.”
He gives a whine. Close enough.
“Rough day?” I murmur, scratching his ear.
Another whine.
“Maybe you need to lay off chasing things in the tall grass for a bit, huh? Did something spook you?” Like anything can spook a dog that feels like he was fed steroids instead of milk as a pup.
Human-Jason makes a strangled sound behind me and I straighten up.
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about Dog-Jason. I think he’s just had a rough day.” But I’m worried about him. I make a mental note to give him extra cuddles after the lesson.
“Right then, I’ll get meself stuck in ’round ’ere, if it’s all the same ta ya, love,” Reggie says.
“Sure, go ahead. What are you going to start with?”
“I’ll just crack on wiv the grip mats on the stairs, love. Once you’re done wiv the stove, I’ll get crackin’ on that verbal timer o’ yours.”
“Sounds good to me.” I turn toward where I hope Jason is still standing. “Shall we?”
“After you.”
I walk to the sink and wash my hands. Much like he did last week, Jason doesn’t rush in or try to do things for me. He just waits while the water runs over my fingers. The simple courtesy makes my shoulders loosen, and I didn’t even notice they were tight. When I step aside, he washes his hands too.
“I see you’ve got everything for today’s meal. We’ll be using a lot of speed and high heat today,” he says, his voice suddenly way too close behind me. “Shall we work on knife skills?”
“Please.”
It comes out breathier than I intend. I need to stop listening to dark romance audiobooks.
He steps behind me, his warmth sliding down my spine before he even touches me. My breath stutters. When last was a man this close? My body answers before my brain does—too long. Far, far too long.
“Curl your fingers,” he murmurs, guiding my hand. “The blade should touch your knuckles, not your fingertips.”
His hand rests lightly on mine.
My breath catches like someone tugged it out of my chest. God. My body remembers this—this nearness, this quiet male gravity drawing me in. It remembers what it feels like to be wanted, even though he’s not… wanting. He’s teaching. Just teaching.
Right?
Chop. Chop. Chop.
The sound vibrates through the cutting board, through my arm, through the space between us.
“Just like that,” he says softly.
I’m melting. I’m going to be a little puddle on the floor any moment now. His breath skates along the back of my neck, soft as a fingertip. Maybe I should have worn my hair down today, to hide how exposed the back of my neck feels. Or maybe not, because God help me, this feels good.
So damn good.
This continues while we chop the rest of the veggies. Well, Human-Jason does, I pretty much just stand there begging my knees not to buckle and telling myself this isn’tGhostand I’m not Demi Moore. I’m overheating, and we aren't even near the stove yet. I think I should get something to drink.
I tilt my head back. “Should we open that wine?”
His breath stutters. I’m so damn close I can feel it on my lips.Excellent Violet.
