Page 47 of Fate In Fiction

“Wine makes you awfully lippy,” I muse, taking a sip to suppress my darkening thoughts.

“Well, that’s where it travels through.” Her index finger taps her bottom lip, shrugging as her oversized shirt slouches farther down her arm and she maneuvers herself back to the baking bowl.

I bite back a smirk and decide that finishing off this glass of wine is probably not the smartest idea. Josie turns the music down on her phone, then spins around, pushing each arm out to the side as she slides to the oven in her socks. A giggle erupts in her throat as she preheats the oven, and I lean against the kitchen island, watching her move around as if she owns the place. She’s dancing to her own beat, so comfortable in the kitchen. I can’t help but smile, seemingly in a state of awe. Her delicate fingers grip the wooden spoon as she turns the dough over and picks out a chocolate chip.

“There’s raw egg in the batter,” I state, even though she was previously eating the dough as I walked in.

“I have bigger fears in life than consuming a drop of raw egg.” She holds the bowl toward me for a taste. I amuse her and take a small pinch, just to earn that heart-stopping smile I know she’s about to give me. I could get used to coming home to this every night. Too bad our time is nearly up.

“What are you fears, then?” I try the dough as she responds.

“That I’ll fail at making the best cookies you’ve ever tasted.” Her lips speed out the words as if nerves take over. “My fears are far and few, and irrelevant to you, since nobody else is aware of them.” Her throat clears as her eyes remained glued to the bowl and it takes all my willpower to not ask if I can put her fears at ease. “Nor do most care enough to let me explain them.” Her voice quiets as she pushes her thoughts back in a vault.

“I can listen,” I say, but she shakes her head and giggles again.

“We need to get these in the oven.” She takes another bite of cookie dough, and I laugh, glad that her carefree side has returned.

“Cinnamon.” I walk up beside her, invading her bubble, and her shirt brushes against mine.

“I don’t know if those two go together.” The bridge of her nose scrunches like a little bunny, and my chest warms at how cute she is.

“Keep an open mind.” I wink and try to keep the suggestiveness out of my voice. “You’re in for life-changing cookies.” I reach for the cinnamon off the spice rack. “It tastes even better with a couple tablespoons of cinnamon coffee creamer.”

“Well, aren’t you the cookie connoisseur.” She smirks, presenting her hands out to the batter. “Show me the goods, Emmett.” Her eyebrows raise with a playful smirk.

“Your tongue’s orgasm will thank me for this.” I push a limit to get her reaction as I add the cinnamon in the batter.

“Look at you all domestic in the kitchen. All sexy, with your sleeves half rolled up.” I huff a laugh at her buzzed commentary as she sits on the island next to me and watches me stir the mixture. “How did you learn this trick?”

“My grandma and mother made a habit of it.” I take a moment and remember the simple times when all I’d worry about was sneaking a chocolate chip from the raw batter when they weren’t looking.

“Did you bake a lot with them?” Her feet sway back and forth, her attention locked on what I’m doing.

“With my grandma, all the time.” I feel myself smile at the memories. “I spent most of the days with her while my mother worked and my siblings went to school. My family is big on home-cooked meals, so I’ve been in the kitchen learning since an early age.”

“I bet your grandma still thinks back on those days.” Her hazel orbs look up at me and a hint of sadness passes through them. “I bet you made a lot of kitchen memories.”

I’d like to make a racy one with you.

“For the most part. Did you bake as a child?” I think back to all our holiday baking. “Did you and your siblings have a gingerbread house decorating contest?”

“No, we had a chef to take care of that too.” Her chin tilts down, and she reaches for my phone. “I bet Grams would love to see you back in action.” She swipes the screen and lifts the phone toward me. “She will be thrilled to receive this.” I pose with a smile.

“One more with you in it.” I retrieve the phone as she picks up the bowl of dough, tilting her head toward mine with an excited smile.

“Now, one of those is worthy of a screensaver.” She laughs as I set my phone on the counter to send the photos over later.

“Okay, little darlin’.” I scoop some dough on my finger and hold it out for her to taste. “What do you think?”

She dips her own finger into the batter, and as I expect her to hold it out to me, her arm loops around mine and she takes a taste off her own while pulling me toward her. I smirk and pop my finger into my mouth, holding her daring stare. Our faces are an inch apart and the air stills instantly. Her finger begins to slide over her tongue and through her lips, but just as the fingertip touches her bottom lip, she sucks it back in. By the looks of her cheeks, she swirls her tongue around it. Fuck, should I act on this? The moment is right here. Again. The will we or won’t we that we keep playing with is about to kill me.

The oven beeps, signaling it’s pre-heated—just like the way my tightening pants are showing how pre-heated I am. Josie blinks with a small shake of her head, ending her trance, and hops off the counter. Well, there goes that.

“I’ll scoop this onto the tray, and you can do the dishwashing honors.” Josie picks up the bowl and empties the entire blob of cookie dough onto the tray.

“You… that’s a cookie crime!” My eyes widen as she flattens the dough to fill the entire pan. “Each cookie needs a crispy edge with a gooey center. Not one big ass cookie.”

“My goodness, Emmett. How about we break the rules for once?” There is no innuendo, but I sure as hell looked for it. “This way, we have an entire massive gooey center. And I was the one making cookies before you barged in and changed up my masterpiece.”