Willing every nerve in my body to settle the fuck down, I swallow and try like hell to keep my voice even. “What are you doing, Kat?”
“Making my own sourdough starter?” Her words are also careful like she’s expecting my eye to start twitching at any moment.
The odds are good for that, honestly.
“Why do you need a sourdough starter? We don’t live here.”
“She can come with us!” she says proudly, holding up the lidded jar as she beams at me.
“She?”
“Yes! I made a list of names. Do you want to hear them?”
“I—”
“Bread with benefits, knead me badly, sour-yo, dough go breaking my heart…” She grins. “They’re pretty good, right?”
I open my mouth and close it, thinking better of sharing what’s going through my head. “I’m going to go shower.”
“Oh, that’s no fun.” She frowns. “Think of all the things I can make with this!”
“Have you ever made bread before?”
“No, but how hard can it be?” One delicate shoulder lifts then falls. “And besides, I’ve always wanted to try it and now,”—she waves her hand around at the mess—“I can.”
I think back to a conversation I had with Cullen when he first started dating his now wife. She wanted to go to one of those events where everyone paints the same picture while drinking wine, and he said he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less.
Even back then he was smart enough to realize it was never about the painting.
She wanted to enjoy a night out with him doing something new.
Share the experience.
So instead of worrying about the mess and the fact that she’s in danger, we’re in the middle of an investigation, andthis is the last thing I want to do right now, I inhale a steadying breath and close the distance between us.
“You know what? I think I saw a recipe for those cinnamon rolls you can make from the discard when it’s ready.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I watch as her whole body sags in relief and her smile widens.
Because it’s not about making bread.
Or yoga.
Or indoor fucking plants.
It’s about a woman who is trying desperately to find some semblance of control at a time where there is none. Everything she’s worked to accomplish could simply disappear overnight, and with so much unknown right now, I can’t blame her for wanting to hold on tosomething.
Like sourdough.
Or preferably,me.
“I need to jump in the shower but how about I run you a bath?”
“Will you join me?”
“I was thinking I could watch.” Raising an eyebrow, I make sure to let my eyes rake over her body and toss her a salacious grin.
“Go.” She giggles before swatting my chest with her hand. “I have to clean up.”
She does.
