Jamie follows me to the kitchen. “Oh, I love trying to make something with whatever random ingredients are lying around. I do it all the time at the house. Since I’m the one who keeps everyone on track with our diets, it’s an important skill to have. Whenever Felix or Carter whine that we have to order a pizza because we don’t have the ingredients for anything, I can whip up something nutritious and edible from whatever I find.”
I fling open my cabinet doors and step back. “I’ll give you free rein, then.”
“Wise choice.” He props his hands on his hips authoritatively as he scans the contents. The pose accentuates the breadth of his shoulders. “Hmm … canned tomatoes. Ohh, kidney beans … do you have an onion?”
I grab one from the counter. “Yep.”
“Ground beef?”
I check the pack in the fridge that I haven’t gotten around to using yet. It’s still in date. “Yep again.”
Jamie claps his hands with enthusiasm. “Perfect. We’re making chili.”
He finds a big pan and puts it on the stove, before arranging the ingredients on the counter. “I should text the guys and tell them what’s going on. It hasn’t stopped hailing, has it?”
I find a strange emotion welling up in me when he pulls back the curtains to look outside. I’m hoping that ithasn’tstopped hailing. I don’t want Jamie to leave.
“Shit,” Jamie says, peeking outside. “It looks even worse. Some people’s windshields are probably gonna be smashed tomorrow.”
The news gives me a glad, buoyant feeling. Well, not the smashed windshield news. I am capable of sympathy, after all. But the news that the weather outside is too frightful for Jamie to go home.
“There’s that dirty mouth I was asking for,” I quip.
Jamie turns to me, his expression wry and playful. “You’ve corrupted my innocence.”
I imagine Jamie’s mouth even dirtier, curses dripping from it in low rasps, right next to my ear as he moves between my legs. A quiver ripples through my body. I pull my mind out of the gutter.
“I’ll chop the onion,” I say, reaching for something safer to settle my thoughts on.
There’s tension in my shoulders as Jamie and I prepare the meal. This is all just so unusual. Jamie being in my apartmentlike this. I’m almost afraid to give in to the feeling nestled in my chest, the feeling of comfort and security at having him here, the enjoyment of this mundane domestic task.
Gradually, the tension melts away. I start to give in. Since I came to Cedar Shade, the only nights I haven’t spent alone have been with Jamie. And, as I reflect, I’ve enjoyed each of them. Even when I’ve tried not to give myself permission to.
When everything is assembled in the pot and the liquid is simmering, there’s nothing to do but wait.
“About an hour should do it,” Jamie says.
“An hour?” I whine. My stomach rumbles.
Jamie chuckles. “Upset to have me hanging around that much longer?”
I roll my eyes. “Stay as long as you want.”
“Be careful. I can be a very inconsiderate houseguest.”
I snort. “I highly doubt you couldeverbe inconsiderate.” I give him a look. “Try. Right now.”
His brow scrunches. “Try what?”
“Do something inconsiderate.”
His lips roll, eyes bouncing around like he’s rifling through his brain. “Uh … like what?”
A laugh pushes out of me. “Exactly.”
His eyes narrow, like he’s ready to rise to a challenge. “I can be inconsiderate. Look. I’ll do … this.”
He pulls open my refrigerator door and then strolls away, plopping himself on the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He turns a triumphant face in my direction.
