16
DALTON
Gabriella’s coming over for dinner tonight. Kain and Blake have agreed to take Dad out and keep him away long enough for us to enjoy an evening together.
It wasn’t easy to convince them, but they both owe me, and I called in those favors.
Romantic meals for two weren’t supposed to be part of our deal, but over the last three weeks, Gabriella has taken time to teach me to cook every meal I’ve bought ingredients for, and tonight, I want to say thank you.
I want her to understand what a difference it’s made to me to know I’m capable of doing more than construction. It’s a path I’ve always seen laid out before me, my father’s dream, but it’s never made me feel alive. I didn’t really know what that would feel like until recently.
The house is tidy. The food is ready. I glance at myself in the mirror, smoothing my beard and adjusting my hair. I’ve bought a new shirt for tonight and teamed it with my best dark blue jeans. It’s important to me that Gabriella feels that I’ve made an effort for her.
When the bell rings, I stride toward the door, knowing she’s probably worried about getting spotted on our doorstep.
“Hey,” I say, finding Gabriella looking gorgeous in a green shirt dress and bright white sneakers. Her eyes move down the length of me, and she moistens the middle of her bottom lip, already thinking about sex. It’s only taken me a month to be able to pick up her sexual tells. In fact, I think she might be the horniest girl I’ve ever met.
“Hey, Dalton.”
When I close the door, she steps close, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. In seconds, she deepens the kiss, moaning against my lips, her tongue tangling with mine. Instantly, my body is primed, but I’m wary. She’s been this way since the night Blake’s condom split; totally focused on sex. Different from the first time we were together when she snuggled up against me and seemed to relish my affection.
She got her period the next day, so there weren’t any repercussions to our group experience, but ever since, she’s been fixated on getting to the physical act as quickly as possible, asking for us to be cold and domineering, resisting and avoiding any kind of aftercare.
Tonight, I don’t want to just fuck her. I want to spend time with her like we used to and hear about what’s been going on in her life. I want to feed her and show her how good I am at doing something that was totally outside of my skill set until she came along.
It takes all my powers of resistance to put my hands on her shoulders and ease her back. “You ready for dinner?”
“I’m hungry for you,” she says, reaching down to cup my dick.
“And I’m hungry for you, too, but first, I want us to eat. The food is ready.” I know I don’t imagine the flash of panic in her eyes, but I plow on, hoping that she’ll relax once she sees what I’ve prepared. “It’s your favorite,” I say. “Irish stew with mashed potatoes.”
“You made stew?” Her eyebrows form a disbelieving arch that makes me chuckle.
“Better.” I smile. “I made your stew.”
I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen. I haven’t set the table with anything fancy. I wanted to but thought if she saw a rose in a vase, or fancy napkins, she might run for the hills.
She inhales as she sits at the chair that I hold out for her. “It smells good, Dalton. Almost as good as mine.” The last part is said with a mischievous grin and I’m immediately relieved to see her relaxing a little.
“Wait until you taste it.”
It’s stupid that I feel nervous about serving her. It’s just a meal. Just meat and potatoes, after all. Except, it’s so much more. It’s like I’m baring my soul. A soul I didn’t know I had until Gabriella gently inspired me.
I try to assemble her plate like a picture I saw online. It doesn’t come out exactly as I hoped. It smells so good, though, that I hope she’ll forgive the rustic presentation.
“Here,” I say, setting her heaped plate down in front of her. Gabriella breathes in the steam and nods her head. I don’t serve myself until she takes a bite and I watch her react to the flavors; my heart lodges in my throat until she smiles.
“Wow…that is delicious, Dalton. Are you sure you didn’t buy it from a restaurant?”
I rest my hand on my heart and pretend to be offended. “You wound me.”
“Seriously.” She heaps another mouthful and chews. Her eyes are wide and appreciative, and I find myself holding my breath. “So good.”
It’s only when she’s confirmed it’s good that I heap my plate with the food, and when I sit across from her to eat, I’m salivating.
My first mouthful of tender meat in a rich sauce and creamy potatoes is like heaven. I’m so proud of myself that my chest expands like a peacock. Like, seriously, I never thought I could make something so good.
Gabriella pours herself some red wine and takes a sip before she dabs her lips. “Did you practice?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I just wrote everything down when I got home,” I say. “I’ve started compiling a recipe book of the things you’ve taught me.”
“Don’t go trying to sell it,” she jokes. “Those recipes are trademarked by the Cross family.”
“I would never,” I say seriously.
“Although…” Gab pauses, glancing up to the left. “Have you ever thought about going to culinary school?”
“What? No!”
“Don’t dismiss the idea like that. I’m serious.”
I rest my fork-holding hand on the table, scanning her face to gauge the genuineness of her comments and find her expression earnest. “You think I could?” I ask.
“I think you really have potential.”
“My dad wouldn’t like it,” I say, cringing at how immature I sound and my instinct to try to keep him happy.
“Your dad doesn’t have to like it,” she reminds me carefully.
I bite my bottom lip as the idea settles. Construction has been my destiny for as long as I can remember. Dad always talked about us going into the family business, and as a dutiful eldest son, I just did what he expected, especially after Mom died. I didn’t want to be a burden to him or cause him disappointment in any way. But although I get a lot out of physical exertion, the building industry doesn’t light my fire.
It’s profitable. At the end of the day, it gives us a good life. There’s never been a time when we’ve been short of money. My dad isn’t an educated man, but he’s a skilled builder and he understands people. All our clients love us. We never advertise because we get so much recommended business that we can never take it all on.
Could I do something else?
What would it feel like to wake up in the morning and not put on my work trousers and steel-toed boots? I’ve gotten so accustomed to this way of life; I can’t even comprehend what doing something else would look like.
I tell Gabriella that and she reaches out to touch my arm. “I know you love your dad, and you want to make him happy. That’s admirable, Dalton. That shows respect and empathy. It shows that you’re grateful for his sacrifices. Maybe, if he had a choice to do something else, he would have ended up in a totally different career. Have you ever thought of that?”
“I guess that makes it worse. He didn’t have a choice.”
“So now you have to reject the fact that you do?”
I lean back in my chair and press my lips between my teeth.
Gabriella eats another mouthful and rolls her eyes with pleasure, underlining her argument. “You know, I’ve made this stew so many times with my mom and without her, but somehow yours tastes better.”
“I added a little more ale and a teaspoon of brown sugar to give it more richness,” I admit.
“Really? Where did those ideas come from?” She points her fork at me like she wants to accentuate the point she is making.
“I just made it up.”
“Because you have a talent. An instinct.”
I settle back into eating, using the time it takes to chew to absorb Gabriella’s suggestion more fully. Could I do it?
And then I realize that’s not the question I should be asking. Do I want to do it is the right question.
When we’re done with the food, I take Gabriella up to my room, where she immediately tries to climb me like a tree, but I need time to digest. Instead of fucking her, I tuck her into my bed and put on a comedy special, wanting us to watch something lighthearted together. I want to hear her laugh and build a connection outside of just sex.
She initially seems wary, but eventually snuggles into my chest.
The show is hilarious, and it feels so good to relax in Gabriella’s company. The deal wasn’t supposed to encompass any of what we’ve done tonight, but I don’t feel bad for pushing the boundaries of our arrangement. What I want from Gabriella is way more complex than just a fuck buddy relationship.
I know that I shouldn’t add complexity to this situation. Travis’s face pops into my head as her hand works its way beneath my shirt and caresses the ridges of muscle on my belly.
But everything we’re doing is wrong. Adding a little date-night sauce onto a sex ice cream doesn’t seem capable of making the current situation much worse.
And the fact that Gabriella isn’t running out the door tells me she’s okay with it, too.
When the comedian takes his bow, I flip her onto her tummy and give her what she wants, holding her down while I take her apart piece by piece and then put her back together again.