AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was similar to our pool game when he stood behind me and showed me what to do: his voice was a soft rumble in my ear, and his breath tickled the back of my neck and stirred my hair. But it wasn’t purely sexual. It felt more intimate than just grinding our private parts together.
Donovan’s hand lingered on my shoulder, then he opened the oven and gestured. I picked up the pie and slid it inside. He closed the door and wiped his hands together.
“In thirty minutes we’ll have a delicious Russo Pie.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it. I told you it was deceptively simple. The homemade crust is the hardest part.”
“There were pre-made crusts in the fridge,” I said.
Donovan’s face twisted in disgust. “I’m going to pretend that was a joke.”
We finished the rest of our inventory while the pie baked. There were alotof dry goods in the pantry. Especially basics like flour, sugar, and boxes of dry pasta. We could live here at the hotel for months if we had to. And as long as I was with Donovan, that didn’t seem like such a bad prospect.
A sweet and chocolaty smell filled the kitchen when Donovan pulled out the pie. The crust was golden brown, and my mouth watered at the sight of it.
“It needs to cool,” Donovan said. “But it will be ready by the time dinner is done.”
Out of all the food items in the fridge, the ground beef and cream had the most recent expiration dates, so Donovan made spaghetti bolognese for dinner. Even though we had boxes upon boxes of dry pasta in the pantry he insisted on making the pasta from scratch.
“Can you watch the garlic bread for me?” he asked when everything was almost ready. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched the bread through the oven door, pulling it out when it was toasted to a perfect golden brown. Donovan returned moments later with two plates.
“Perfect timing,” he said while spooning bolognese onto each plate.
“Want to eat this in the lobby?” I asked. “We can watch Italian Seinfeld.”
“I have something else planned.” He carried both plates out of the kitchen.
I followed behind him, wondering what he meant.
The restaurant was dark, as it had been all week. All the chairs were still stacked on their tables except for one table where they had been pulled down. A cluster of candles were glowing softly in the middle of the table, casting flickering shadows across the room. A bottle of wine and two glasses waited.
Donovan placed both plates on the table and then held a chair for me.
“Donovan,” I said while sitting down. “This is wonderful.”
He pushed my chair in and sat across the table. “I wanted a special night with you,” he said. “To take your mind off things. The way this tripshouldhave gone.”
I didn’t know what to say. I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
He popped the cork on the wine and began filling my glass. “This isn’t from your room. This is anicebottle. From the dusty section of the wine closet.”
“You don’t think we’ll get in trouble for opening it?” I asked.
“Who’s to say we opened it?” he replied with a sly grin. “The security cameras are all off.”
“It was probably the daily delivery guy,” I agreed. “He’s been known to steal wine, after all.”
We laughed together and enjoyed our candlelight dinner. The bolognese was tangy, and creamy, and absolutely delicious. And the garlic bread was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.
Donovan served Russo Pie for dessert. I made a soft moan when I tasted the first bite.
He nodded smugly. “What did I tell you?”
“It’s all gooey on the inside!” I said as I took another bite.
