London froze. “I’m going to need more details there, Woodson.”
“Well. Whipped cream is a little cliché, right? So maybe something else.”
London was quiet a moment.
“I don’t know,” they murmured into her hair. “If it’s homemade whipped cream, it might be worth it.”
Dahlia shook her head, feeling steadier now.
“Nah, that involves way too much whisking. I’d prefer you keep your wrist strength for other things.”
A bolt of laughter exploded from London’s throat, and Dahlia smiled, relaxing further. God, she loved making London laugh.
“Maybe honey. Or caramel,” she said. “Except those would get pretty sticky, probably. We’d mess up the sheets.”
“I’d say anything we’re thinking about here is likely to get pretty messy, Dahlia. Luckily, we’re living in a place that employs a housekeeping staff to help with that.”
Dahlia frowned, pushing away a few centimeters.
“Is that kind of rude, though? Housekeepers have a hard enough job.”
“They have to clean the sheets anyway.”
“I guess so.”
“Dahlia. What’s your favorite fruit?”
“Blueberries,” she said automatically. London laughed again. “What?” she asked defensively.
“I’m just picturing dumping a tub of blueberries over you and having them roll everywhere. Doesn’t seem very . . . efficient. Name another fruit.”
“Honeydew melon.”
London considered. “We can work with that. Even though, Dahlia, that is a horrible fruit.”
“Okay, Fancypants. What’s your favorite fruit?”
“Nectarines.”
“Oh. Good choice.”
“I have very good taste.”
Dahlia leaned up to kiss them just as the sounds of other contestants shuffling back to their stations hit their ears, too close.
“Want to take a trip to Vons after we’re done filming?” London asked. “You can drive.”
Dahlia took one of London’s hands and planted a kiss on their palm. “It’s a date.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
London dumped the Vons bags onto the small table in their hotel room. “So we should make a plan.” They started unloading their wares. Dahlia laughed.
“Is this the type of thing you plan? Shouldn’t it be sort of . . . spontaneous and messy?”
London tried not to feel annoyed. Dahlia was the one who had implanted this whole idea into their heads, but she’d spent half their trip to Vons giggling and blushing. Which had been cute, on one hand, but London was also tired and ready to get down to business.
Andobviouslythe sex would be better if it was planned.
