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My heart pounds erratically as I stand outside the bedroom door, straightening my collar for the tenth time. I raise my hand to knock, pausing just a moment to gather my scattered nerves.
Tonight has to be perfect.
When Kat opens the door, the sight of her steals my breath away. She's radiant in a simple black dress that hugs her curves enticingly.
"Hi," she says a bit shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You look beautiful," I tell her sincerely.
A hint of pink graces her cheeks at the compliment, those bright ocean eyes warming as she takes me in. "You clean up pretty nicely yourself."
"Shall we?"
As we walk, I catch a subtle vanilla note teasing my senses that makes me ache to run my fingers through her silky hair.
"So, where are you taking me?" Kat asks. "Somewhere fancy?"
"It's a surprise." I press my palm subtly to the small of her back as we walk together. Even that innocent touch sends sparks skittering through me. "But I think you'll enjoy it."
I watch the lights play across her delicate features, highlighting her beauty, as we head through different halls and backrooms of the resort. We make small talk, but it's not strained or awkward. Kat is just so easy to talk to.
We finally reach a door, and I open it to reveal one of the chef's kitchens. Realization dawns on Kat's face as she takes in the impressive space.
"We're cooking dinner?" She asks in delighted surprise.
"I rented out the kitchen just for us. It seems being associated with the notorious Sharpe family has some advantages. That and the fact that this is only one of like seven fully equipped kitchens." I’m rambling. Why am I rambling?
The tight ball in my stomach loosens at the wide smile on her face.
Maybe this is the perfect way to indulge her adventurous spirit in my own way.
"Well then, chef, show me what we're making!" Kat's eyes sparkle brightly, joy chasing away any lingering hesitance between us.
I lead Kat over to the expansive kitchen island where fresh ingredients and utensils are laid out and ready. "I was thinking we could make pasta from scratch," I suggest, gesturing to the mound of flour and dishes of eggs. "Followed by chocolate soufflés for dessert."
"Ooh, Chef Wyatt is getting fancy on me," Kat teases, yet her eyes shine with anticipation as she surveys the tools and ingredients laid out before her.
I chuckle, rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt. "I may have a few tricks up my sleeve."
As we wash our hands and get started combining ingredients for the pasta dough, an easy warmth settles between us. Cooking together feels natural, joyfully domestic.
Soon we've got a big ball of dough that Kat kneads enthusiastically, tongue poking adorably from her lips in concentration. Watching her enjoy herself so openly makes my chest squeeze. I'm seeing glimpses of the real woman beneath the mask tonight.
"Here, add a bit more flour," I say, dusting the counter.
Kat kneads energetically, sending up a cloud of white. Before I can react, she grins impishly and flicks flour right at me, dusting my shirt.
I blink down at myself in surprise, then let out a low laugh. "Oh, you're asking for it now."
Reaching across, I dip my hand in the flour and blow it in her direction. She gasps dramatically before retaliating with another flick, and soon enough, we're both laughing and stumbling around the kitchen throwing flour everywhere like children.
With a playful glint in her eyes, Kat grabs a whole bowl of flour and before I can move, dumps it over my head. I stand there stunned, face and head coated in white as she doubles over giggling uncontrollably.
"You look like a sexy ghost!" She gets out between bouts of laughter.
A surge of fondness rushes through me at her unrestrained joy, taking me by surprise.
Acting on impulse, I grasp her waist and tug her against me, enveloping her in a floury embrace. Kat lets out a surprised squeak that melts into laughter once more.
