Chapter 9 #2
She swallowed hard. “Anyway, I have all the supplies to do it, but it was my aunt who watched the videos and stuff on how to sand and prep them, so I need to research it first.”
“And the dishwasher?” His gaze fell on the new in-the-box dishwasher taking up space in an empty corner.
“The old dishwasher died last year, and my aunt found another one on sale, but she wanted to save on the cost of installing it, so she just had it delivered. We were going to install it ourselves after we finished the cupboards.”
“Have you installed a dishwasher before?” he asked.
“No, but that’s what YouTube is for, right?” she said.
He just grunted, and looking a little flustered, she reached to flip the light on in the rapidly darkening kitchen.
Briggs stared at the ceiling light. It was a brass flush-mount ceiling light with a frosted shade and, apparently, only one working light bulb, which cast a dim glow in the room.
Cece’s face was red, and, sounding embarrassed, she said, “The light bulbs need to be changed, but…”
“It’s too high for you to reach,” he said.
“No, I, um, have a stepladder, but the thingy to unscrew the shade is stuck or overtightened, maybe,” Cece said. “I can’t unscrew it, but I’m sure I just need to pick up some WD-40 or something.”
“Right,” he said.
The embarrassment still stamped into her face, Cece pointed to the table. “Have a seat.”
He sat down, staring again at her ass when she opened the oven and bent in front of it.
Both her perfect ass and the thick smell of garlic toast made his bear growl happily.
She straightened, placed the toast on a small platter, and set it on the table.
She brought over the pasta, placing it between them before sliding into her seat.
She handed him a serving spoon. “Help yourself.”
He scooped out a plateful of pasta and took a couple of pieces of garlic toast as Cece poured them both some water from the jug on the table. She hesitated. “I have wine if that’s your preference.”
He shook his head. “I don’t drink wine. Water is fine.”
She spooned some pasta onto her plate as he took his first bite. His bear roared happily at the taste and surged forward enough to take control and practically shovel half the plate of pasta into his mouth before Briggs could wrestle back control.
He set his fork down and wiped his mouth, giving Cece a guilty look. “Sorry.”
“For what?” she asked.
“Eating so much and so quickly,” he said. “My bear likes your cooking.”
An adorable grin crossed her face. “Tell your bear I said thank you.”
They continued to eat in silence. Briggs wanted to say something, knew he should say something, but he’d never been very good at conversation.
It used to drive Lucille crazy, and, according to her, it was one of the reasons she had cheated on him.
His inability to share everything he was thinking, his comfort in the silence, had been a sore spot between them that they’d never been able to repair.
His back sweating at just attempting to make small talk, he said, “How long have you worked at the greenhouse?”
“Since high school,” she said before pausing awkwardly. “I’ve always loved plants, so it seemed like the perfect job for me.”
“Why are the plants only in your room?” he asked.
“My aunt hated clutter,” she said. “Having a bunch of plants in the rooms felt cluttery to her.” She poked at her pasta. “I guess I could put plants all over the house now.”
Her face went red, and he could see the glint of tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.
“Thank you.” She drank some water and blinked rapidly before handing him the bowl of pasta. “Finish off the rest.”
“You sure?” he asked. He was still hungry and could happily eat the rest, but he’d poked around in the fridge and the pantry while Cece was in the shower.
The amount of food she had made him wonder how the hell she wasn’t starving to death.
Of course, he did tend to eat more than most people, but still…
“I’m sure,” she said. “You must have worked up an appetite chopping that much wood.”
“It wasn’t that much,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? It would have taken me hours to chop up that much,” she said. “You have no idea how excited I am to have this much wood ready for the fireplace. I hate chopping wood.”
He took the pasta bowl and emptied it onto his plate.
They finished eating in silence, and he helped Cece clear the table.
When she filled the sink with hot water and submerged their dishes, he grabbed a dishtowel and joined her at the double sink, being careful not to let his arm even brush against hers.
“You don’t have to dry the dishes,” she said.
He ignored her and took a plate from the rack, dried it, and put it in the cupboard before reaching for another. Cece looked like she might protest before turning back to the sink.
Ignoring the happy growls from his bear at how close they were to the little human, Briggs pretended he wasn’t at all tempted to lift Cece onto the counter, strip off her clothes, and fuck her senseless.