I shake my head, holding my hands up in surrender. “You are right, that is still not a talent that I have. But in my defense, I never needed anyone to cook for me. And if I remember correctly, neither did you,” I remind her, shooting her a wink.
She flushes, “But I still learned.”
“Good for you, now get in there and make me something to eat!” I demand in a teasing one.
She shakes her head. “You are still such an ass.”
“An ass that you brought dinner for.” I reach for the bags and begin unpacking them. “Shouldn’t you have gotten something a little healthier for the athlete in training?” I tease her, even though I really couldn’t care less. She’s smart enough to make her own decisions on what’s for dinner. I just like to give her shit.
That comment earns me an eye roll. “I’ll be just fine. Don’t you worry about what it is I’m putting into my body.” I don’t miss the way her tone changes when she says, ‘my body.’
I stare at her for a moment before stalking over to her and leaning down so that we’re face to face. “What if that’s the only thing that I worry about?”
Her breath hitches and she smiles. For a moment, I think I’m going to get a serious comment out of her, but she deflects. “I’m not the one who should be concerned about healthy habits, considering the number of women that you bring home on a weekly basis.”
I fake a laugh, even though the comment wounds me. I mean, she’s not wrong, but I just don’t like to be reminded of it.
“Relax, I’m only teasing you,” she says, pushing at a piece of my hair that falls onto my forehead.
I just nod and lean in, pressing my forehead against her. I hear her sharp inhale of breath and watch as she swallows. I get the urge to lean in and kiss her. But I don’t. Instead, I back away and touch her nose gently before rising to full height and saying, “What else is new?”
I move over to sit on the opposite side of the couch, giving her some distance. I don’t miss the way she shifts in her seat, and I’m hoping she’s trying to resolve an ache that has been stirred up between her legs. I know the feeling well; I’m sporting a partial half the time I’m around this woman. She’s so sexy and confident, even in the smallest things. She has no idea, which makes her even sexier.
“The food is going to get cold,” she finally says, getting up and dividing up the food. The smell of fried goodness and burgers fills the room.
My stomach grumbles in response. I had no idea how hungry I was. “What did you get?”
“Same thing I always used to get,” she tells me.
It stops in me in my tracks that she remember the order that we used to place every Friday night so many years ago. “You did?” I stammer out.
“Yeah, I did. Two burgers, single patty, both with no tomato and one with extra pickles for you. I also grabbed a fry for us to share. Although you’re not in season anymore, so maybe you want a whole one. Which is fine, I’ll just steal a few.”
“I can share,” I say quietly, staring at her.
I can’t believe she remembered. It’s something that probably seems too simple to her, but it hits me like a punch in the gut. I walk over to her again and gather her up in my arms. I place a tender kiss on her lips and pull away so that I can see her hooded eyes staring back at mine.
“You are incredible,” I say to her.
She grins back at me and shakes her head. “All I did was remember our takeout order.”
I shake my head, “No, it was so much more than that. For me anyway.”
I release her and head off into the kitchen to get plates.
“Where are you going?” she calls after me, confusion in her tone.
“Getting plates. We’re not poor college kids anymore. We can afford to eat off the plates and not the wrappers,” I say over my shoulder.
“For the record, neither one of us were poor college kids, we just never bought plates of any kind,” she reminds me.
“I prefer to think of us as poor and not lazy,” I say, returning to hand her a plate.
“Ooh and you sprung for real plates,” she teases me as she accepts it and begins plating her food. “Here.” She holds my cheeseburger out to me and I accept it, our fingers brushing lightly.
This is the first time we’ve just hung out like this, and I can’t stop thinking of all the ways that I would love to touch her. I practically want to invent reasons just so that I have some excuse to put my hands on her. But I remember what Dex told me—we are working on the long game here. So, devouring her after we eat our dinner would probably not be the best move.
“You got quiet over there on me.” Hendrix stares at me, waiting for me to respond before turning back to her food.
