Chapter 13
Kade grabbed the grocery bags from the back while I unlocked the cabin door, and when we stepped inside, I was grateful that the power was still on. “You want me to put these away?” he asked, setting the bags on the counter.
“I got it. You go sit down or something.” He didn’t sit down, though. Of course, he didn’t. He just leaned against the counter, muscular arms crossed, watching me unpack. “You gonna help cook or just stand there looking fine?” I asked without turning around.
“I’m supervising.”
“That’s not a real job right now.”
“It is when I’m doing it.”
I finished putting the groceries away and turned to face him. “Okay. So what do you wanna eat?”
“What do we have?”
“Literally everything you just bought.”
“Then make me something good, girl. You know what a nigga likes.”
I laughed. “Oh, so now I’m your personal chef?” I grabbed the dish towel and threw it at his face. He caught it without even flinching, grinning like an asshole. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll cook, but you’re helping.”
“You know I don’t cook.”
“Well, you’re learning today.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then you starve.”
He pushed off the counter and walked over, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “That’s fucked up, Storm.”
“That’s reality, babe.”
He stared at me for a second, then smiled. “Aight. What do you need me to do?”
“First, go wash your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He moved to the sink, and I watched him roll up his sleeves. The muscles in his tattooed forearms flexed as he scrubbed his hands, and I had to look away before I got distracted. Focus, Stormie. Food first. Dick after.
“What are we making?” he asked, drying his hands.
“Might as well whip up some pasta. It’s easy. Even you can’t fuck it up.”
“You got a lot of faith in me.”
Laughing, she replied, “I really don’t.” He laughed, and I pulled out a pot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. Then I grabbed the chicken, vegetables, and sauce and laid everything out on the counter. “Okay,” I said. “You’re chopping.”
“Chopping what?”
“Bell peppers, onions, and garlic.” Kade looked at the cutting board like I’d just asked him to perform surgery. I was trying not to laugh. “Just don’t cut yourself. I don’t want to spend the rest of the weekend in the ER.”
“Relax. I got this.”
“Famous last words.” I watched him pick up the knife and a bell pepper, staring at it like he was trying to figure out the best angle of attack. “Kade, it’s a pepper. Just cut it.”
“Shut up. You’re distracting a nigga. Damn.” He started cutting slowly and was way too focused.
I bit back a smile. “What the hell? You look like you’re defusing a bomb,” I said.
“I'm being careful.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “You want me to do this shit or nah?”
“I want you to do it faster.” I turned back to the stove, checking the water. It was starting to boil, so I added the pasta and stirred, trying to ignore the way my heart was beating faster. Next, I cleaned the chicken and patted it dry. Then, out of nowhere, Kade burst out laughing.
“Remember that time a couple years ago when you tried to make ramen and almost burned down your kitchen?”
I spun around. “That was one time.”
“You forgot to add the fucking water.”
“I was drunk!”
“Drunk as fuck.” He was grinning now, shaking his head. “I came back from the gym, and the whole floor smelled like burnt plastic. The landlord was losing her damn mind.”
“Okay, but in my defense, Monique left me alone with Jenna and those tequila shots.”
“Nah, that’s not a defense. That’s just bad decision-making, Stormie.”
“Jenna was a bad influence.”
“She still is. The fuck? Just last month she tried to convince you to get matching tattoos.”
I groaned. “Oh, my God. She wanted us to get ‘Ride or Die’ on our ankles.”
“And your ass almost did that shit. I had to physically pull you out her car.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You were halfway to the tattoo shop before I stopped you.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Alright, alright. Maybe I’ve been a little impulsive.”
“A little?”
“Shut up.” He finished chopping the peppers and moved on to the onions, and I turned back to the stove to drain the pasta. The kitchen smelled so damn good, my stomach had no choice but to keep growling. “And what about you?” I asked. “You make plenty of bad decisions.”
“Like what?”
“Like dating Vanessa.”
Kade groaned. “Don’t remind me of that shit, Storm.”
“She was crazy. She used to call you like fifteen times a day.”
“I know.”
“And she cried every time you didn’t answer.”
“Storm, I’m aware.”
I grinned, seasoning the chicken. “I’m just saying. You dodged a bullet when you finally ended that one.”
“I didn’t dodge shit. You and my mother made me end it.”
“Kade, she showed up at your apartment at two in the morning because you didn’t text her goodnight.”
He paused. “Aight, yeah. She was crazy.”
“Thank you.”
“But you weren’t much better with that nigga–what was his name? Derek?”
I froze. “We are not talking about Dante.”
“Why not? You just brought up my past.”
“Because Derek wasn’t as bad a mistake as Vanessa.”
“A mistake you dated for six months.”
Laughing, I hollered, “Because I was trying to make it work!”
“You were tryna protect his feelings. I respect it, but nah, he was a mistake, Storm.”
I grabbed a pan and set it on the stove, adding olive oil. “Well, I learned my lesson. No more fuck niggas.”
“Good.” He came up behind me, kissing my neck. “‘Cause I had to watch you date all those lame ass niggas for six years.”
“You dated plenty of people, too, Kade.”
“And none of them ever mattered.”
The air shifted, just like that. One second, we were laughing, and the next, the kitchen felt smaller. I turned back to the stove and tossed the vegetables into the pan. They sizzled, filling the silence. “Hand me the chicken,” I said quietly.
He brought it over, standing close enough that I could feel the heat of him beside me. I added the chicken to the pan, stirring everything together, trying to focus on the food rather than the way my hands were shaking.
“You’re good at this shit,” he said after a minute.
“At what?”
“Cooking. Taking care of shit.”
“It's just pasta, Kade.”
“Still.”
I shook my head, but I was smiling too. The pasta was done, so I tossed it into the pan with the chicken and vegetables, mixing the jar Alfredo sauce. The smell was incredible. “Alright,” I said, plating the food. “Try it.” He took a bite, chewing slowly, and I watched his face. “Well?” I asked.
“It’s good.”
“Just good?”
“Really good.”
“Better.”
He grinned. “You want me to say it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted?”
“I mean, if you’re being honest…”
“It’s fire, Storm. Happy?”
“Very.” We ate standing at the counter, side by side, and it felt normal, like we’d been doing this for years. Well, we had but nothing like this. It was intimate.
“Real shit,” Kade said after a while, “I could get used to this.”
“To what? Me cooking for you?”
“To us. Like this.”
I looked at him, and his expression was serious. Not soft. Not sappy. Just... real. “Me too.”