Rhett got up and placed the cards on my desk. “I am, but my shift will be over soon, so I’ll grab something next door.”
Other than the day I ordered Chinese food for everyone, I’d been having dinner after Rhett left, but for some reason—even though I wouldn’t consider myself a superb cook—I found myself saying, “That’s not for another hour. Let me just make something for both of us.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am if you like salmon.”
“I do.” He nodded, and we walked toward my open kitchen.
“Asparagus?”
“Yes.”
“Then dinner will be ready in less than thirty minutes.” I nudged my head for him to sit at the island.
“Fallon …” He took a deep breath.
“What?” I grabbed the foil from a drawer.
“We’re crossing a line.”
“It’s food. Not like we’re fucking.”
“Jesus, Fallon.” He stood abruptly. “Don’t say that.”
“Why? Because you want to?”
He started to pace, and it was the first time I’d seen his resolve crack to the point he was having a hard time hiding his emotions. I didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I turned the oven on, pulled the ingredients out of the fridge, and got started making the dinner I had at least once a week.
Growing up, we’d had a chef who had fixed us meals, and during undergrad, the fraternity house where I had been president had employed one. I hadn’t learned how to cook until after graduation when I started living alone. I’d thought I would have Tyler to cook for me because he’d moved in after we graduated, but that didn’t last long since Hayden asked him to live with him a month later.
At first, I’d ordered takeout since the only thing Tyler had taught me in the short time he’d lived with me was four ways to make eggs. But then I searched the Internet for simple recipes and voilà, I could cook a few things to keep me alive that weren’t just breakfast and sandwiches.
Rhett finally sat back in his seat, and I continued filling the foil packets with the salmon, asparagus, lemon, spices, and hot sauce.
“You don’t have to eat it, you know? I’m just being nice since you’re on shift. I don’t want to eat in front of you, knowing you’ve been with me all day and probably just as hungry as I am,” I said.
“I know, but the issue is I want to eat it. I’ve never been in a position where all the fucking lines are blurred, but they are, and I don’t know what to do. I worked my ass off to get a job with the Secret Service, and in less than two weeks on this assignment, I’ve fucked up.”
“You haven’t fucked up.” I closed the packets and placed them on a cookie sheet. “Does it say in your handbook or whatever that you can’t eat while on duty?”
“You know it isn’t since we ate lunch together.” He rolled his eyes.
“But it isn’t the food we’re talking about.” I put the cookie sheet into the preheated oven.
“Exactly.”
I leaned on the island, my elbows resting on the surface and my face only a few feet from his. “There’s no reason for Agent Day to come inside, right?”
“Only if there’s an emergency.”
“The only emergency around here is we haven’t kissed yet.”
Rhett’s eyes moved to my lips, and I licked the bottom one before sinking my teeth into it.
“Fallon,” he groaned.
“No one will know. We’re both consenting adults.”
