AllFreeNovel
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“Nah. Any woman who’s beautiful and knows how to fix cars is a keeper.”
Her laugh practically makes my chest puff out with pride. I love knowing I brought that musical sound out of her. “Look at you, professional flirter. I bet you pick up women in your sleep.”
“Nope. I almost always dream about hockey.”
“Do you always win in your dreams?”
I scoff. “I wish. I have this dream all the time that I keep swinging my stick and I miss the puck.”
She laughs again. “If that’s the worst dream you have, I think you’re good.”
“The worst one I’ve had recently was being trapped on a submarine with a bunch of other people. We didn’t know how to get the submarine to go up to the surface and we were all talking about whether we’d run out of air first or start eating each other.”
“That...does not sound good.”
I grin. “Now you know about two of my recent dreams. You have to tell me at least one of yours.”
She considers. “I usually don’t remember my dreams. Let’s see... I worked in the kitchen at a steak house when Hannah was a baby. I spent almost all my time there making baked potatoes. I’d scrub them, butter them, salt them and bake them, hundreds of potatoes every night. So I had a dream recently that I was making baked potatoes at the restaurant. Not very exciting.”
“Do you like baked potatoes?”
“I absolutely love them, and obviously, I make great ones. I make them with butter, sour cream, bacon and chopped scallions.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Tess doesn’t seem to hate me anymore, which is good. But Ben’s comment about me being morally gray is fucking with my ability to hit on her. She’s divorced with two kids, and it sounds like she’s got a busy life between working and her family.
She’s still a woman with needs, though. A no-strings arrangement could be perfect for someone who doesn’t have time to date.
When she glances at her phone screen and reads a message, it’s followed by a single note of laughter. “Yeah, that’s not happening. My daughter wants me to whip up some macarons tonight.”
“For her French dessert?”
She sighs heavily. “I’m so screwed. I’m not a baker. And don’t the French eat fancy tarts and pastries?”
“French toast. Boom. Done.”
“Is that really French, though?”
I shrug. “They don’t call it Italian toast, do they?”
“Hey, I’m done sweeping.”
Zane’s standing nearby, looking annoyed by everything. I give him a skeptical look.
“There’s no way you did all that already.”
“Yeah, I did. What’s next?”
“Zee,” Tess says sharply. “I don’t like your attitude.”
“And I don’t like the way this guy is looking at you like he wants to take you out back for a quickie.”
Tess jumps to her feet, but I put an arm out in front of her.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I was once a smart-ass kid myself. I know how to handle him.”
I stand, walking over to Zane. “I’ve got some hockey gloves you can wipe down and spray.”
