Logan shudders as he glances around one more time. “Alright,” he says with a grin, “if you think you’ve got this, I’ll head out. I set the timer on the stove. When it goes off, take it out and let it rest for ten minutes or so before serving. Got it?”
“Got it.” I snicker when we both say it at the same time.
“I like you together,” Logan says on his way out of the room. “You’re good for each other. Good luck cleaning up that mess,” he calls back before closing the door behind him.
“I like us together too.” Winking, I turn and walk towards the sink to get started on the dishes. I may not have many culinary skills, but I have lots of practice washing up.
“Get back here.” He loops his arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest. Dipping his head, he nuzzles me in the crook of my neck. “Did you have fun?”
Spinning around in his arms, I place both palms on his face. “This was the best first date. Thank you for planning it; I had a great time.”
“Me too. Logan was patient, all things considered. He thought I was exaggerating when I told him neither of us had any experience in the kitchen.”
Together we load the dishwasher and tackle the pots and pans until the sink is finally empty. We are wiping down the counters when Ryan glances over and says, “Why don’t you go run yourself a bath? I can finish up here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Positive. And you might want to wash the tomato sauce off your cheek.” He drags a knuckle across my skin, slow and teasing.
My jaw drops. “You let me walk around like that?”
He chuckles under his breath. “In my defence, I think you’re cute.” He takes the cloth from my hand. “Go on. I’ve got everything under control down here.”
I survey the half-cleaned counters. “Are you sure? I can help you finish…”
“Beck,” he says gently, tipping his head towards the stairs, “go take a bath.”
The way he says it makes something in my chest feel warm and fuzzy.
“I can handle the kitchen,” he continues, returning to his task. “By the time you come down, dinner will be ready.”
“You’re spoiling me,” I murmur as I turn to go.
He shoots me a dimpled smile over his shoulder. “That’s the idea. You deserve to be spoiled.”
And just like that, I’m moving towards the stairs, heart thudding, still amazed that he wants to be here with me.
Twenty-Six
Date number one is a complete success if I say so myself. When I came up with the idea, it took no convincing to get Logan to help me out. He even texted me the grocery list.
I move quickly around the kitchen, making sure everything is cleaned up and back in its place. The mouthwatering scent of roasted garlic, herbs, and melting cheese floats in the air. Turning off the timer, heat rushes out as I open the oven door and remove the lasagna. Placing it on the stovetop, I remember Logan said it needs to sit for a bit before we eat it. I’m proud of us. It looks—almost perfect. A large smile slides across my face. I can’t wait for her to see it.
I grab plates from the cupboard and place them on the table, then try to recollect which way the forks go. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I want to make it nice for her. Rummaging through a drawer, I find two cloth napkins and try to fold them. They are far from perfect, but okay. Maybe I should stick them in the wine glasses; I’ve seen that done before. Fuck, I almost forgot I bought wine.
What else… I never thought to buy candles. I’ll have to buy some for next time. I love the thought that there will be a next time. Standing back, I admire my handiwork.
Everything is ready, but she hasn’t come down yet. I don’t want to rush her. Maybe I’ll go up and give her a little nudge.
Throwing down the towel I have hanging over my shoulder, I head up the stairs two at a time and walk towards my bedroom. “Dinner’s ready,” I call, pushing open the door. “Come down whenever you’re…” I trail off as I come to a stop and lean my shoulder against the doorframe.
Beck is kneeling on the floor, digging through her bag with a towel wrapped around her chest. She looks up startled, eyes wide for a moment.
“Hi,” she says, standing up slowly. “I forgot to take my bag in with me. I’m trying to find something to wear.” She bites her lip and looks away.
“I see that,” I say, stepping farther into the room.
She laughs softly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from her flushed face. Holding her towel and clothes tight against her chest, she nods towards the bathroom. “I’ll get dressed and be right down.”
