22. Spaghetti
22
Spaghetti
The next day, after my shift, I cleaned myself up in the employee bathroom before driving to Harvey’s place. The GPS instructions wove into the Carol of the Bells playing on the radio. That had to be a good sign. Plus, there was a 'bell' button next to his apartment number and the H. Hamlin label. Harvey buzzed me in, so I dashed up the old stairs that smelled a bit like my elementary school gym.
Harvey held the door open to his apartment. “Hey, glad you could make it.”
“Glad to be here.” I grinned.
“Come on in.” Harvey swept his hair back, his fingers tangling in the damp brown waves. I wasn’t expecting it to be so fluffy on top.
I stared in awe. “You have hair .”
“Is that a surprise?”
“It’s always under your hat.” I held my lip between my teeth. His fitted vintage band tee didn’t have anything underneath, either. I lightly scratched at his toned arms and tattoo. “You’re showing off for me?”
Laughing, he ushered me inside. “It’s just hair and skin–maybe some ink.”
“It’s pretty.” I held onto his arm to edge off my boots on his kitchen mat, bells tinkling. “You’re a beautiful man, Harvey.”
His cheeks turned bright pink as he tugged the back of my jacket. “Okay, your turn to unveil something.”
I shrugged out of my beige winter coat. “You finally get to see me in a new outfit. I changed after my shift.”
His nails grazed the bare skin showcased by an off-the-shoulder baggy caramel-colored cable knit sweater, which draped low enough to cover the waistband on my black leggings.
“You look…stunning.” He cleared his throat and hung my jacket. “Anyway, uh, this is my place.”
Generic cream tile and yellowed wood cabinets speckled the exposed brick kitchen. A grease guard protected the wall from a decent full-sized electric stove, which was part of a black appliance set.
“Are you cooking me dinner?” I ran over to examine the steaming pot and prep bowls nearby.
“Spaghetti.” He rubbed the back of his reddened neck. “Sorry, it’s not fancy.”
“I love spaghetti. And are these going to be meatballs? Can I help roll them, please? It’s like playdough you get to eat.” I clasped my hands and batted my eyelashes in earnest. It was so rare I got to make anything without my family hovering over my shoulder. Maybe I could actually enjoy cooking.
His lip ticked up. “Sure thing. How was your shift?”
We chatted while making dinner. I rolled the meatballs and Harvey cooked them. Once my part was over, I washed my hands and hugged him from behind, relaxing in the warm hollow between his shoulders seemingly made just for me. Today, he smelled like fresh laundry detergent and a little bit of seasoning.
“This is nice. I just wish you could pay more attention to me,” I lamented jokingly.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said.
“I know, I’m just extra needy when I’m hungry and everything smells too tasty.”
He chuckled. “You sound like my coworkers. They’re always giving excuses for hanging out and snacking.”
“Maybe they need to be directed to do something else kinda fun but easy to take their mind off things.”
He hummed and turned down the burners. “If you’re okay handling the sauce, you can help by stirring.”
“I get to wield the giant spoon? Yay.” Head held high, I took the wooden spoon and swished it around the saucepan.
“Good job.” He kissed the back of my head.
The spark traveled all the way down to my toes. I wanted a billion kisses. Maybe more. I twisted my hair over one shoulder and tilted my neck, giving him more access.
Harvey inhaled deeply and rubbed my arms. A feather-light kiss brushed my bare shoulder.
Giggling, I leaned into him. “Don’t tickle me.”
“You want harder?” He gently sucked on the juncture between my shoulder and neck.
“Ah, Harvey,” I said, halfway between chiding and pleading. I rested the wooden spoon against the pan lid and wrapped my hand around the back of his neck to urge him closer for an over-the-shoulder open-mouthed kiss. His palms explored my sweater and bare skin.
I wanted him higher, lower, anywhere I could have him.
With a little whimper, I rubbed my ass against the front of his jeans.
He whispered a curse and hugged me tightly. “Our dinner is gonna burn.”
“We could let it simmer.” I turned to loop my arms around his neck.
His dark gaze laid heavy on my lips. “Troublemaker.” He gave me a firm kiss and eased me to the side, twisting off all the stove burners and rearranging the pans.
Damn, I had hoped I could have a sexy appetizer. Tugging on his belt loops, I eyed our spread. “What else can I help with?”
“Choose a veggie to microwave,” he said.
“Vegetables? But we don’t need them with all this," I said, gesturing to our spread.
He quirked a brow. “Have you had any veggies today?”
Uh-oh. I turned my feet inward and ducked my head. “Um, no.”
“When’s the last time you did?”
I sighed and tugged open the freezer, snatching a bag of broccoli. “I eat carrot sticks.”
“That’s what I thought. You need some gummy vitamins.”
Psh, those were for special occasions or if I was sick. I couldn’t imagine treating myself to them every day.
By the time everything was plated, we had a steaming, magnificent dinner including some vegetables.
I twirled the pasta around my fork. “No one’s ever made me a nice meal like this.”
Harvey tilted his head and nudged my knee. “Technically, you made it too.”
I shrugged. “I was helping. When you like someone, that’s what you do.”
He blushed at his plate. “You’re so sweet.”
“So, you like me too?” I leaned closer and held my tongue between my teeth.
“Obviously,” he said, raising his fist to mask his grin amidst chewing.
Wiggling in my seat, I dug into the meal. “This is so good. The seasoning? Mm. The veggies are softer than what I'm used to, which I like, and everything is super tasty.”
Harvey chuckled. “I aim to please.”
Well, he was definitely succeeding.
I bit my lip and stacked the meatballs by size into little meatball snowmen. And the spaghetti could be hair. Or a nest for them.
“Hey, Shelby?” He placed his hand on the back of my chair.
I froze. I shouldn’t have played with my food. I was getting too comfortable for my own good.
He chewed on his lip ring, then pressed into me with his thigh. “I’ve never been this happy with someone. And I think part of that is how honest you’ve been with me.”
“Really?” I pushed my hair behind my ear.
“Yeah, neither of us have to hide anything. I mean, I was kind of taken aback when you first told me about this age play thing.”
“I know.” I ducked to hide my blush. He practically threw himself out of the car to get away from me.
“And I’m not great with kids. But I researched your interests, and I like you, and I think I can do a Daddy-esque thing, if that’s what you need.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just not sure, because I’ve never been around when you’ve fully…”
A lump the size of a snowball lodged in my throat as I twirled a huge hunk of spaghetti. “I’ve never been fully Little in front of anybody.”
Harvey scooted closer. “I understand it’s probably scary in some ways. And you’re a sensitive, caring person. I’d be happy to grab Mr. Waddles for you or listen to you tell me more about it if you don’t want to go there yet. I don’t want us to get in deep only to realize we can’t give each other what we need. That’d be worse than heartbreaking. So, I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable being Little for a bit tonight and try me as your Daddy.”
“What?” I thought we’d make out and watch a movie. He wanted to play with me?
“I really like you,” he said with startling, strained sincerity.
Was he excited or just willing to try this lifestyle with me? It sounded like he was already catching strong feelings. This sweet, snarky man was falling for me.
The spaghetti slipped off my fork and splattered onto my chest, startling me out of my reverie.