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“Okay, we’re here. What is it?” I demand as soon as I hop off the bike.
“You’re impossible,” he chuckles, collecting the bags of groceries. “It’s inside. Go see for yourself.”
I don’t even bother waiting for Gabe as I race toward the door. But by the time I have it unlocked, he’s standing right behind me. As soon as I step inside, my jaw hits the floor.
“We got our table?” I squeak.
“And the couch,” he adds, nodding to my left. “Jeremiah delivered them early.”
“They’re perfect!” I exclaim.
The tan suede couch fills the entire wall below our living room window, but that’s not a bad thing. It will give us more sitting room so we can actually enjoy the space. And the dining room table works well in its space, fitting nicely below the dining room chandelier. Though it only has four chairs, that’s probably all we’ll really need. At least for the time being.
I run my hands along the smoothly sanded oak as I make my way toward the kitchen. “I’m so excited that we’re actually going to get to sit down to eat.” Turning to face Gabriel, I grin broadly.
“You’re easy to please,” he teases as he closes the front door, a smile spreading across his own face.
“Things are coming together,” I insist happily. Honestly, it would take a lot to bring me down right at this moment. I have a new job, and now we actually have some pieces of furniture to our name. Perhaps this venture might work out after all. Money might be tight right now, but I can see the light at the end of this tunnel.
Setting the grocery bags down on our dining room table, Gabriel wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close. Leaning up onto my tiptoes, I press my lips to his, and he responds readily, his tongue pressing between my teeth to deepen the kiss.
After a few tantalizing minutes, I pull away. “If we keep that up, we might not make it to dinner tonight.”
Gabriel smiles devilishly. “I wouldn’t complain.”
Chuckling, I swat him playfully. “You’re an animal. But some of us have a growing baby to feed.”
“Mmm,” he hums and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Then scooping up the bags of groceries once more, he takes them to the kitchen and starts unpacking them onto the counter. “So, what are we making?”
“I thought I might try some crock pot Tuscan chicken tonight.”
“That sounds amazing,” Gabriel agrees.
“Would you mind chopping up some of the vegetables?”
“Sure.” Gabe opens the cupboards to find the cutting board and gets to work without question.
It’s a nice balance in the kitchen as we both work, dancing seamlessly around each other despite the tiny space. And I like the peaceful time together. It’s almost therapeutic, which I had never considered might be true about cooking. All my life, as the daughter of a rich Blackmoor family, I’d watched others cook and never thought about the joy it might bring. I’d only ever cared about the calories and nutritional value that might help me maintain a perfect physique.
“How’s the shop coming along?” I ask as we work.
“Good. Got a few new customers today. Things are starting to pick up a bit, and the clubhouse is coming along nicely. I think the boys will be happy when they won’t have to live in a construction zone anymore.”
“At least their rooms are done, right?”
Gabe shrugs, never taking his eyes off the motion of his knife. “For the most part. Though I guess their bathroom is still a work in progress.” He chuckles. “They’ve got the shower and toilet running but still no sink.”
That makes me laugh. “And any progress on the new recruits?”
“Initiation starts tomorrow.”
I’m not sure I want to know what that means. Maybe it’s like college frat hazing or something, but I suspect it might be more intense. Gabe just better not do anything too dangerous. Staying alive is part of what he’s promised me.
Our conversation flows nicely as we work, and when dinner’s ready, I serve it up, and we take a seat at our new table.
“Is it sad that I find eating at our own table so exciting?” I ask playfully, stroking the beveled edge of the table.
“Nah. I mean, compared to where we were constantly eating before? We actually have a table to call our own. That’s pretty exciting.” Gabriel prepares his first bite of Tuscan chicken, spinning the pasta onto his fork before taking a bite. “Wow,” he says, his eyebrows rising. “You did good,” he adds around his mouthful.
