As I take in this space through her eyes, I’m proud of my accomplishments. Not only did I install a large double sink that you can finally wash large dishes in, but I’ve also created more seating by extending the granite countertop to easily seat six around it on barstools. I also purchased a large table with long benches along the sides so we can fit more around the table than we could with chairs.
“Space was a huge selling point. I’ve spent too much time away over the years not to have a place we can gather. Sure, we’ve still got Mom’s house, but all my girls are in the thick of things, raising their families. It’s great for them to take a break away from their own chaos and let someone else host.”
Raising a brow, Faye skeptically asks, “So, you cook more than breakfast?”
“Do you think Jane Lancaster would’ve let me get away with not learning?” I ask incredulously. She should know better. Mom was adamant that my sister Mable and I learned everything we could so we could fend for ourselves. Hell, Mom made sure of that long before I even considered enlisting in the Air Force.
Maybe I never showed Faye.
Shaking her head, a smile tugs at her lips. “Fair point.”
“Besides, a man’s gotta eat. I could only take chow halls for so long. The moment I got a place of my own, I always made the most of it.”
“Makes sense,” Faye muses. “I’ll admit I’m more of a functional cook. With my crazy schedule and it being just me, I don’t waste a lot of time on anything elaborate.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” I feel the need to reach out and squeeze her thigh with my free hand. “Speaking of eating, got any plans this evening?”
“Like I said, I’m working most of the day. I haven’t thought that far.”
“I’m grilling steaks with the boys. If you’re free, you’re welcome to join us. If you’re busy, we can drop it off.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she quickly spits out. “You should spend this time with your grandkids.”
I study her carefully, trying to decipher if she’s just being polite or truly uninterested in meeting my family.
“You gotta eat, don’t you?” I quickly counter.
Not sure why my gut’s telling me the truth behind her response matters, but for some reason, it feels important. We’re neighbors; it’s not like she’s really going anywhere. Knowing my gut never steers me wrong, I change tactics and soften my tone. “Look, Faye, there’s nothing wrong with being neighborly.”
“Is that what this is?” She points between the two of us and smirks adorably. “Neighborly?”
“Fuck... Last night was…” I draw out, running a palm down my face to keep from smiling at the memory as I search for the correct words.
Hell, it was fucking phenomenal, out of this world, one of the best fucking nights of my existence. But what comes out is, “Nowhere near neighborly.”
“I’d be a little jealous if you gave Mrs. Rimer, the woman who lives on the other side of you, the same treatment.”
“I can assure you, you’re the only neighbor I’ve experienced anything like last night with.” To prove my point, I lean in and kiss that gorgeous smirk right off her face.
Fuck, she’s addicting. If I don’t keep myself in check, I’ll never make it to Sloane’s today.
“Good.” She sighs when I pull back. “Because she’s a much better cook, and I wouldn’t want the competition.”
“Faye, I’ve met Mrs. Rimer. That woman could be my grandmother,” I deadpan, then put a finger beneath her chin to draw her eyes to mine. “So we’re clear, you’re the only one in this entire town who could tempt me to do the things I did to you last night.”
“Glad to see we’re on the same page,” she murmurs, pulling me in for another scorching kiss.
“Oh, we’re on the same page, Faye,” I murmur between hot kisses.
The bigger question is—what does this mean beyond last night?
Sloane:
Ohmigod. I swear hell has frozen over.
Raven:
What’s going on? You good?
