Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Giddy from the prospect of more sexual adventures with Cole, Mila did a lousy job of sounding casual on the phone with her sister. Claudie would grill her when she came home.
Whenever that was. The later she came through the door, the more Claudie would suspect something had happened.
“Sounded like she was giving you a hard time.” Cole stood in front of the stove making grilled cheese sandwiches that smelled great. A saucepan of tomato soup sent up tendrils of steam.
“She was just being Claudie.” She’d spent the phone conversation gazing at him and wishing every woman in the world could have a moment like this. First he’d loved the daylights out of her. Then he’d loaned her a pair of sweats and set about fixing her dinner. What more could a girl ask for?
He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you think she knows?”
“She strongly suspects. She’s been teasing me about you ever since the wedding.” She set his phone on the kitchen island. “What can I do to help?”
“Bowls and plates are in the cupboard to my right, placemats and napkins in the left-hand drawer under the island. Utensils in the drawer next to it.”
“Bien.” She left the plates and bowls on the counter by the stove and moved over to the kitchen island. Two stools faced the fireplace. “I’d better move this Christmas tree. Where should it go?”
“Anywhere’s fine.”
“I’ll set it on an end table for now, but it needs to be near a socket so you can plug in the lights.”
“Understood.”
She wanted to see how it looked in his space when it was lit, but now wasn’t the time to fool with that. “The Beaver Bunch only got to do one song. Would they like to give us a show during dinner?”
“Probably. I’ll ask them.”
“Do they have names?” She’d found napkin rings and pulled the napkins through them.
“Sure do. The fiddle player’s Rufus, the one on the washboard is Buster and that’s Shorty on the washtub bass.”
“Great names.”
“I didn’t make them up. Those were our stage names when I was with the jug band.”
She turned around, delighted with that tidbit of info. “You were Rufus?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He flipped the sandwiches. “What do you want to drink?”
“Whatcha got, Rufus?”
He chuckled. “Water and beer. And coffee or tea if you want something hot.”
“I just had something hot. I need something to cool me down.”
“How you talk.” Sliding the sandwiches on the plates, he carried them over to the island.
“It’s your fault. Now I have orgasm brain.”
“Join the club.” His gaze swept over her. “There’s nothing sexy about my baggy sweats until you put them on. Then when you move, that soft material manages to perfectly define your—”
“Something’s burning.”
“Fudge!” Whirling around, he grabbed the soup pan. “Damn it.” He sighed. “How do you feel about blackened tomato soup?”
“Just pour it into the bowls and add a little sugar.”
“Sugar?”
“Trust me, it works.” She spied the sugar canister on the counter. “I’ll do it.”
“And I’ll watch and learn.” He divided the soup between the two bowls and ran water in the scorched pan. It hissed and threw up a cloud of steam. “Good thing it didn’t boil over.”
“Yeah, this is nothing. A tiny glitch.” Picking up a soup spoon, she crossed to the counter and grabbed a teaspoon out of the silverware drawer. “You just add a tiny bit of sugar and then taste-test. If it’s not right, you add a little more.”
“Sounds like you’ve burned soup before.”
“Doesn’t everybody? Mom taught me this ages ago.” She added a quarter teaspoon to each bowl and stirred. “Now we taste.”
“If it’s no good, I have more soup.”
“And throw this away? No, no, no. We don’t waste food around here.
” She dipped the soup spoon into one of the bowls, blew on it and then put it in her mouth.
“Mm.” She swallowed. “Needs a little more. Do you have any parmesan? That helps, too.” She added a pinch of sugar to each bowl and stirred it in.
“And here I thought this meal would be quick and easy.” He took a can of grated parmesan out of the fridge and set it on the counter.
“No importa.” She glanced at him. “I like a challenge.”
“Lucky me.”
She could get used to those warm looks and cute half-smiles. Dipping up more soup, she offered it to him. “See what you think.”
He held her gaze as she fed him the soup. She hadn’t meant it to be an erotic moment, but suddenly she wanted to kiss him more than she wanted to breathe.
Slowly she pulled the spoon away, her heart pounding. “Well?”
“Delicious.” He grabbed her, his lips hot and demanding as he captured her mouth.
The soup spoon clattered to the floor as she climbed him like a tree, hooking her legs around his hips.
Cupping her tush, he carried her back through the barn doors, tumbled her onto the bed and followed her down. Panting with eagerness, he pulled off her clothes and his. His chest heaved as he knelt between her thighs and rolled on a condom.
Then he was there, thrusting fast, lifting her off the mattress. “Come for me.”
His husky command sent her over the edge. Crying out, she arched into him. The rolling waves of her climax swept away her inhibitions and unleashed a string of her favorite Spanish swear words.
With a bellow of triumph, he drove home one more time. The pulse of his climax blended with the sweet aftershocks of hers. She held on tight, absorbing the shudders of his body, basking in the heat of his gaze.
As his breathing slowed, a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Extensive vocabulary, lady.”
“Ah, but you don’t know what I said.”
“Ah, but I do. I work construction.”
Her cheeks heated. “Oh.”
“I liked it.” He leaned down and kissed her hot cheeks. “Sounded like you were having fun.”
“So much fun.”
“Dinner will be cold.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t have a microwave.”
“We’ll pretend the soup’s gazpacho.”
“That’s funny. What about the sandwiches?”
“We’ll cut them into strips for dipping in the gazpacho. I’d also like to add that parmesan before we eat the soup.”
“Then I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” Easing away, he left the bed.
Watching him go would never get old. She allowed herself to ogle, but once he was out of sight she located her sweater and the sweats he’d loaned her. Because they had cuffs and a drawstring, she’d made them work.
She couldn’t imagine why he found them sexy, though. Then again, she enjoyed looking at him in sweats, especially because she knew what was underneath.
Dressing took no time whatsoever. Walking barefoot into the kitchen, she washed her hands, opened the parmesan and sprinkled some in each bowl.
Then she sliced the sandwiches into finger-sized strips.
As she carried everything over to the island, he came through the barn doors and walked toward her.
Her pulse hammered and her breath caught. They’d just had an explosive episode and yet her body didn’t think that was enough. One glance at his manly self and the insistent ache began all over again.
“You probably shouldn’t look at me like that or we won’t ever have this dinner.” His words were teasing but the gleam in his eyes said he wasn’t. A word from her and they’d be back in his bedroom.
She gulped. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never been like this.”
“Neither have I.” He braced his hands on the other side of the island, as if deliberately keeping the structure between them. “It’s wonderful… and scary.”
“Maybe it’s because we kept the lid on for so many months.”
“Maybe.” Emotion flickered in his eyes. Then he pushed away from the island. “We didn’t settle on drinks.”
“Cerveza, por favor.”
“That works for me, too. Have a seat. I’ll get us a couple of bottles.” He rounded the island and headed for the fridge. “Want a glass?”
“Don’t need one. But thanks for asking.” She slid onto a stool, her back to him, all her senses tuned to the clink of the bottles, the thump of the refrigerator door, the whisper of his bare feet on the wood floor, the sound of his breathing.
“I didn’t really need to ask.” He took the stool next to her, twisted off the cap on the beer and handed it over. “I knew the answer. You like drinking from the bottle.”
“So do you. And your limit is two.”
He smiled. “And your limit is flexible.” He twisted the cap off his bottle and took a sip.
“Hey, my brother was getting married. If you can’t get tipsy on your brother’s wedding day, when can you?”
“And if Jordie and Luis hadn’t fallen in love….”
“We’d never have met.”
His gaze was steady. “Tough to imagine.”
“Just now you said this is wonderful and scary. You’re scared?”
“Yep. You?”
“Uh-huh.” She took a breath. “You’re out of my comfort zone, Cole Sterling.”
“Backatcha.”
“But…I want to see where this takes us.”
“Me, too.”
“To Luis and Jordan.” She lifted her bottle in his direction.
He tapped it with his. “To leaving comfort zones.”