She quirks a brow. “You don’t seem very wrathful. More like a gentle giant.”
I smile and laugh internally. She has no idea what I’m capable of, but if she keeps looking at me like this with her hands on my chest and that innocent lip bite, it’s only a matter of timebefore she finds out exactly what I’m capable of, only it won’t be my wrath I unleash, but something far more dangerous.
I pull out eggs, and sausages from the fridge, and a couple of slightly bruised potatoes from the cupboard. It’s not much, but it’ll do.
Faith leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like I’m the evening’s entertainment.
“You’re really cooking for me?” she asks, one brow arched.
I smirk. “Don’t look so shocked. I can handle meat.”
Her lips part. She blinks. “How much meat can you handle?”
My gaze slips down her curves, settling on her thick thighs, then back to her face. “Enough.” I stab a sausage with a fork and drop it into the pan. It hisses, as if it knows my secrets.
She bites her lip to hide her grin. “I always figured you were more of a takeaway and beer kind of guy.”
“I can fry, toast, and microwave with the best of them.” I shrug. “I’m a man of many talents.”
“Oh, yeah?” She leans forward on the table, chin propped on her hand. “What else you good at?”
My gaze drifts from the pan to her face, down to the curve of her hip where my t-shirt clings. “Riding.”
Her smile widens, cheeks pink, eyes glittering.
The oil crackles behind me, reminding me I’m meant to be flipping sausages and not flirting with my best friend’s little sister.
She watches me as if she’s hungry for something else.
I clear my throat, turn the sausages, and crack a couple of eggs into the pan. “You keep looking at me like that and I’ll end up burning your dinner.”
She leans back in the chair, totally at ease now. “I’ve never seen a man cook before. Didn’t know it could be this hot.”
I grip the spatula tighter, eyes fixed on the pan. “Careful, Sunshine. That kind of talk gets a man in trouble.”
She grins and swings her legs playfully. “I think you like it.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Too much.”
The air between us thickens for a second, her smile faltering just enough for her to look surprised at herself. Then I plate everything up, breaking the moment.
“Eat before I decide to feed it to the dog I don’t have,” I say, sliding a plate in front of her.
She eyes it like it’s a gourmet meal. “You’re wasted in a garage. You could open a food truck. Wrath’s Kitchen.”
I silently chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sure with that name I’d be inundated with customers.”
She laughs, taking a bite of sausage. Her eyes flutter closed. “Okay… that’s stupidly good.”
I smirk as I grab my plate, still riding the high of making her smile. “Told you I know how to handle meat.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she says through a mouthful, shaking her head. She’s still in my shirt, still in my space, but the tension that wrapped around her like barbed wire is loosening.
Her shoulders finally drop, and her laugh sounds like it belongs here.
She’s safe. She’s fed. And for now, she’s smiling.
It’s a start.
