Chapter 15 #3
As Xander swiftly laid out his ingredients on the island, it was obvious this wasn’t his first time making this meal.
In one glass dish, he quickly combined the breadcrumb concoction with an array of spices—with no measuring spoon in sight.
He broke two eggs into another dish, expertly breaded the chicken pieces, and laid them into a third dish.
Finally, he popped the chicken dish into the preheated oven and set the oven timer.
She grinned as he washed his hands, then pulled out a chopping board, some fresh herbs, and a few zucchinis. “Mr. Bonetti, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume this is not your first chicken parmesan rodeo.”
“Your assumption is correct, Miss Hansen. And for the record, adding in panko is the secret,” he said, winking at her. “I can make a handful of dishes, but it was heavily suggested that I make this for you tonight.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Oh?”
“My friend Bean says this is the best meal I make, and since the woman’s a certified genius, I take her advice seriously.”
“Smart man. So you can cook—”
“Only a handful of dishes,” he said with an easy grin. “Don’t want to set the bar too high, you know.”
From where she was standing, the bar was looking pretty damn impressive. The guy was something else.
“Hmm . . .” She stared at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. There had to be a fatal flaw somewhere.
He cringed. “I’m afraid to ask what that ‘hmm’ means.”
“There’s gotta be something you do that’s annoying.”
He barked out a laugh. “Baby, I can get Tash and Wilson on the phone. They’ll be more than happy to list my annoying qualities.”
She highly doubted that. The way he talked about his friends, she was certain that after some initial teasing, they’d be listing his accolades. “Do you talk during movies?”
“I don’t know,” he hedged. “What’s your opinion on talking during movies?”
She shook her head and tsked. “Uh, uh, uh. Looks like we’ll find out later during the movie portion of our evening.”
“Yikes. No pressure or anything.” He made a face that was equal parts adorable and sexy.
Yeah, this guy was too much.
A nagging voice whispered in her brain, reminding her that she had strict dating rules for herself. Rules she’d established to protect herself. No kissing until date two. No rounding the bases until seven dates. No sex until after two months of dating.
Another voice—a louder, disarmingly confident one—scoffed. Where had those damn rules gotten her? Nowhere.
Actually, no.
Those ridiculous rules had resulted in one disastrous relationship after another.
But it had all led her to this moment. Standing with a man she’d technically already kissed before they’d had their first date.
A man who, after their first official date, had given her a panty-melting kiss.
A man who’d not only gone out of his way to chauffeur her to and from work, but who was a bona fide gentleman.
She was chucking those rules out the window, because they’d done the job.
They’d led her to this exact moment, and while every part of her wanted to forget dinner and get back to kissing the man, she knew there was no rush.
Because the way he was looking at her left no question that they’d get there, probably sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, she was going to focus on the now.
On the man who was making her dinner and who she was determined to get to know better.
Anticipation zinged through her, and she remembered a question she’d wanted to ask when they’d arrived at his house. “When we pulled in earlier, was that a motorcycle I saw in your garage?”
The way his eyes lit up had her stomach fluttering. The man truly was ridiculously handsome.
“It is. It’s a Panigale. Do you ride?”
She shook her head, racking her brain for any sort of information she knew about motorcycles.
She internally winced. Not the best conversation starter since she didn’t know much.
“No, but one of my brothers does. He has a Ninja H2-something—at least that’s what I think it is—and to hear him talk about it, you’d think it was his baby. ”
“I don’t blame him. That’s a nice bike. Has your brother taken you out?”
She shook her head again. “I’ve actually never ridden. Too scared.”
Understatement of the century. It had taken her years to get behind the wheel of a car after the . . . accident. Such a simple word for something so horrific.
Her mind shot to the past. Crushed behind her steering wheel, unable to move, unable to call for help, unable to do anything. But she shoved the memory away. Not the time or the place.
To this day, she was still a nervous driver. She couldn’t begin to imagine being on a motorcycle.
“In all honesty,” Xander said, his attention thankfully on prepping dinner, “I haven’t ridden much lately. I was in a car accident back in March and had to do some PT. Once I was good to go, things got busy at work.” He shrugged. “When the weather gets nicer, maybe I can convince you to join me.”
She injected as much levity into her voice as she could muster. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Clearing her throat, she asked, “So are you originally from Hudson Island?”
Not the most subtle change of topic, but Xander didn’t seem to notice. Or at least, he pretended not to, which she was grateful for.
“No. I’m originally from Oregon. Grew up all over the Portland area,” he said, adding the sliced zucchini chunks onto a sheet pan.
“I joined the Army right after high school and did that for thirteen years. I served with Frazier my last four. We left the Army around the same time, and a few months later, when he started Hudson Security, he called me. Dude’s a stand-up guy, so it was a no-brainer to join him here.
Back then, the company was just me, Frazier, Bennett Wilson—who was also in the Army with us—and Oliver MacKay, Hudson Security’s number two. He’s based in London.”
“Is it bodyguard type stuff or like the security stuff you did at Pacific View?” She winced. “Sorry, I guess I’m not quite sure what it is you do.”
“That’s absolutely fine. Hell, half the time I don’t know what I’m doing either.
” He grinned, and it wasn’t lost on her that he hadn’t clarified what it was that he actually did.
But she’d go with it. “When we first started out, between Frazier’s and MacKay’s contacts, we had a good number of personal security jobs—the bodyguard type of work.
Corporate executive big-wigs, politicians, celebrities, that kind of thing.
Esme and Tash came on board next, and with them, we were able to expand to add corporate security and consulting to the mix.
Then Bean came on and added the cybersecurity element to the company, which was a game changer.
The woman’s brilliant, a bona fide genius. From there, we just grew.”
There was a lightness when he spoke about his work, a fondness when he mentioned his colleagues. She was glad he had that. “You love what you do and the people you work with.”
“I do. The crew we have is great. We’re looking at adding personnel, and it’s been tough.
More like a headache, actually.” He chuckled as he cut thin slices of mozzarella and set them aside.
“We’re a tight-knit group and have a lot of common ground between us.
I’d go to bat for any of them, but I’ll admit, there are a handful in particular who are like my family.
Almost all of us are former military or alphabet agency, and we did a lot of shit, saw a lot of shit.
We’re all highly trained in very specific skills that don’t translate well to civilian life.
So when Frazier offered me a position at Hudson Security .
. .” He shrugged. “I get to do what I’m good at.
Not only that, but it’s with a group of people I completely respect and without a bunch of bureaucratic red tape. ”
A dark shadow flashed over his face. There was a story there, she was sure of it.
But everything inside her told her it wasn’t a happy one.
The last thing she wanted was to prod and have him rip open old wounds.
“If you ever want to talk about any of that, get any of it off your chest, I’ve been told I’m a good listener. ”
The oven beeped.
“I appreciate that, Frey. And who knows? I may take you up on that.” Removing the dish of chicken from the oven, he quickly flipped the pieces and took the parmesan she’d grated and sprinkled a thin layer over the top.
He placed the chicken dish back into the oven, added the sheet pan of seasoned zucchini to the lower rack, and reset the timer.
After setting the small plate of sliced mozzarella and a bowl of marinara to the side, he quickly cleaned the kitchen and shooed her away when she tried to help.
Once he was done, he rounded the island, took her hand, and pulled her toward the couch.
“To echo your earlier comment, thanks for having dinner with me tonight.”
She took in the cut of his jaw and the five-o’clock shadow, the lines of his strong back beneath his long-sleeved shirt, and the feel of his calloused hand in hers. “Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”
“Doubt that, Frey.” He shot her a wink before glancing back at the oven.
“We have twenty-five minutes until the chicken’s ready,” he said as he sat on the couch and tugged her down so she sat across his lap.
He snaked his fingers into her hair, and her breath caught. “May I please kiss you until then?”
She may have nodded, she wasn’t quite sure. She could only focus on his hypnotic brown eyes and the way his thumb gently caressed her cheek. Then his lips were on hers, and she couldn’t focus at all. Her pulse went from zero to sixty within a heartbeat.
Her hands found his solid chest, and gripping his shirt, she sank into the kiss. Electricity shot through every nerve as she tangled her tongue with his. Her body was on fire, but she wanted more.