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“Yeah I thought about that but they might put doilies up everywhere.”
“Oh the horror,” I deadpanned.
“Right?” He flashed a playful grin and tugged me into the kitchen where he wrapped his arms around me and greeted me with a proper kiss that turned my legs into limp spaghetti.
“It smells good in here, and it’s not just you.” Even though he smelled incredible, like fresh shower, man and a hint of something I identified as uniquely Grant.
His arms squeezed a little tighter before he released me. “I’ve got steaks and potatoes on the grill, and a salad because I know women love to nibble on rabbit food.”
I laughed. “I thought we already covered that I rarely eat raw vegetables, even though they are excellent for clear skin.”
“And you do have beautiful skin,” he growled and buried his face in my neck. The next thing I felt was his lips dotting kisses along my exposed collarbone. “And you smell good too.”
“The better to lure you in,” I purred in his ear.
The timer on his phone sounded and Grant pulled back with a reluctant groan. “Gotta check the meat. You want beer or whiskey? I forgot to pick up wine on the way home.”
“Too excited for dinner?”
“Something like that,” he replied with a crooked, sheepish groan.
“Whiskey sounds nice. But only one, since I do have to drive home later.” Much later, I hoped.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, erotic intent burning up his green eyes until they were so dark the color was indiscernible. “Come on, let’s enjoy the last of the sunshine over the lake.”
That sounded suitably romantic, but I quickly shook that thought off and decided to just enjoy each moment for what it was, an enjoyable moment with a delicious man. “This is one spectacular view.”
“Not as good as looking at you, but yeah, I like it.” His lips quirked up on one side into one of those sexy, lazy grins, the kind that pulled you right back into bed even though you had to get to work five minutes ago.
“Oh, you’re good. Really good.”
“Just because it sounds like a line, doesn’t mean it is a line.” I gave him a questioning look and Grant laughed. “Okay, technically it is a line, but it also happens to be the truth. You look gorgeous tonight, Brenna. Floral looks good on you.”
I was moments away from shimmying right out of my dress and begging him to take me, right there on the deck overlooking the lake. Thankfully another timer sounded, saving me from myself.
“Looks like dinner is ready, which is perfect, because I was promised a home cooked meal.”
He stood a little taller, his chest and shoulders almost seemed to expand a little as he did so. “And I am a man who doesn’t break his promises. “Have a seat and I’ll be back soon.”
A few minutes later, Grant rejoined me on the patio wearing an apron that said “kiss the cook” as he set the table, adding a single sunflower to a small vase, and one fat candle for ambiance. “Wow, you’re going all out. Be careful or I just might start to feel special, Grant.”
“As far as I can tell, you are special Brenna.”
“Me?” I casually brushed off his words. “Nah, I’m pretty normal.”
“No you’re not,” he laughed. “Normal is predictable, some might even say boring, and you are none of those things Brenna. None at all.”
I liked to think that was the case, but it was nice to hear someone else say it and mean it as a compliment. “Neither is this steak,” I told him, unsure where to take the conversation because, apparently, my flirting skills were a little rusty.
“Thanks. I’m glad you like my meat.”
I nearly choked on my food. “You did not just say that.” It was such a childish thing to say, so unexpected that it teased a laugh from me, and not one of those third date laughs that was mostly fake, it was an honest to goodness body shaking laugh. “Yes Grant, I find your meat quite…impressive.”
“Thanks. I marinated it myself.”
It really was a juicy piece of meat, but talking about his meat for another second felt like, I don’t know, temptin’ fate or something. “Did you learn to cook from your momma, or in the Navy?”
“My dad, actually. When he was home, he did most of the cooking and he was patient about teaching. My mom is a damn fine cook, but she just grabs a bunch of ingredients, puts it all together and magic happens. So far that hasn’t worked for me.”
“You get the Lopez from your momma or your daddy?”
His lips pulled into a grin. “You nervous?”
“Not at all. Just curious about you, that’s all.”
His expression said, okay, I’ll play, but his eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement. “My dad is the Lopez, but I mostly take after my mother.”
