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“That’s a valid hypothesis,” he said.
She laughed and nudged him. “Yeah, evil robot stove is way more plausible than me not being able to boil water.”
“Surely you can boil water…” he said with a wink. “Just don’t go too crazy and put an egg in it or anything.”
“Oh God no!” she teased. “My luck, the damn egg would turn into a chicken, flip me off, and fly out of the pot.”
“Now you sound magical.”
“Not in the kitchen, I’m afraid. Which is hard, because my mom was so good in there. Like second nature. I can still remember how it smelled with her in it. Like she could create anything. There was always this smell of…love.” She didn’t make a sound, but her grip on his hand tightened, and Gage waited a breath and silently begged for her to continue. Finally, she said, “Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? The smell of love.”
“Not at all,” Gage said. “It’s how you know her. How you remember her. It’s comforting.”
She stared at him. “It really is. The clicking sound right before the burner lights or the soft sway of a kettle before it whistles are like triggers. For a second, I can almost see her. Forget that she’s gone. And it’s in that tiny moment, I have her back.”
Gage squeezed her hand. “It’s like she’s still with you.”
The corner of her mouth trembled. Just barely, but he couldn’t miss it.
“But those moments are getting shorter and shorter and fewer and further between.”
“You miss her,” he said.
“Yes. So much. Even when she was alive I missed her.”
That made him frown. “What do you mean?”
She shook off that last question, and with one last lick of her cone, she dropped the rest into the trash can as they approached her restaurant. Gage did the same thing and walked her toward the entrance of her place.
Their talking time was over. He could sense it. He wanted to know more. Wanted her to dive deeper, but he would take what he could get. Besides, she’d already given him quite a bit tonight. He was grateful for that small step.
“Well, this is me,” she said as they rounded the restaurant to her door around the back of the building.
“Nice place,” he said, falling into the role of her new date. A role he was liking. “I hear this is a pretty special restaurant.”
“It is…” She glanced away, as if mulling something over. Then she turned back to him and said, “The twentieth anniversary of this restaurant is happening next weekend. You should come. If you want.”
Holy hell, Chloe was inviting him to the anniversary event? That was an invitation not just to a date. That was an invitation into her world.
Hope spread from his chest to every other part of him. He’d brought her into the great outdoors and she’d passed with flying colors—not that he’d been grading her. But she was an A+ no matter what. Now maybe their worlds could merge—or at least, maybe they could step in and out of each other’s worlds with minimal issues.
“I’ll be there,” he promised.
She smiled and swayed, playing coy, and his body went on alert.
“I sure had a lovely time, Mr. McGraw.” She batted those long lashes, playing the cute and not-so-subtle role.
Now he would play, too.
“I had a mighty fine time myself, ma’am.” It went against his New York accent to drop his vowels and coat his words with the North Carolina twang, but it made Chloe smile.
“Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee?” she asked sweetly and leaned in. “And by coffee, I mean sex.”
He grinned. “Absolutely.”
She rushed up the stairs. Gage didn’t get two feet into her apartment before she slammed the front door and plastered him against it.
Nothing ever felt as good as Chloe wanting him.
