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He could do better than that. Alotbetter.
He fucking loved to cook for people. That was how his mama had shown how much she cared. His gran, too.Guess it runs in the family.
Besides, this was his golden opportunity to show her he knew how to make more than just eggs, waffles, and meatloaf.
“How about I make you my favorite dish? I have all the ingredients in my fridge, and it only takes about twenty minutes to prepare.”
He braced himself for a flood of questions and critique. Instead, she beamed and said, “Sounds great.”
She swung one long, lovely leg over him, and rolled gracefully off his bed and onto her feet. He stayed put, admiring the view.
“Well, don’t just lie there!” She put her hands on her hips and tossed her long, tangled golden hair. “Into the kitchen with you, Mr. Grumpy Pants!”
“Ma’am!” He saluted her from his place on the bed. “Yes, ma’am!”
That got him another smile.
He chuckled and heaved himself to his feet, then went to pull a clean pair of boxers out of his chest of drawers.
He couldn’t resist adding, “I love me a bossy woman, but don’t gettoobossy. Or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.”
“Could be fun,” she said, surprising him. Then she vanished into his bathroom.
∞∞∞
When Summer wandered out of his bedroom a short time later, she wore one of Brock’s clean t-shirts, which hung to mid-thigh.
He found he liked seeing her in his clothes.
Actually—and this was kinda hard to admit—he likedher. She was beautiful, sassy, and confident, and extremely good at what she did. Best of all, she seemed willing to teach him what she knew.
When they weren’t butting heads—and that wasn’tallhim, she was plenty feisty and every bit as stubborn as he was—they actually worked really well together.
Never in a million years could his seventeen-year-old self have predicted that he’d end up with a naked and very enthusiastic Summer Snowberry in his bed. And his shower. And now, in his kitchen.
At the end of their senior year of high school, he’d been sick with jealousy when he heard Summer was heading to the Culinary Institute of America after graduation. It wasn’t fair that her grandparents were rich.
Meanwhile, his mama had been working herself to death at The Yummy Cowboy Diner, and Brock had been stuck working there every day after school, and most weekends, too. He’d lusted after Summer and resented her in equal measures.
He knew she had a thing for him. He also knew that she was way out of his league, and he’d only make a fool of himself if he ran panting after her. So, he’d been a real dick to her whenever she tried being nice to him.
Now, as he assembled the ingredients he’d need and hauled his gran’s cast-iron skillet out of the cabinet, he stole glances at her.
Summer was giving herself the tour of his cottage. He didn’t mind. He kept his place neat, so he wasn’t worried about scaring her off.
He stole glances at her bare legs and fine ass every time she bent to gather up their scattered clothing from the hallway, living room, and mudroom.
“This is a cute place,” Summer said, wandering back into the kitchen. “But if you don’t mind me saying this…” She paused, as if trying to think of what to say next. “Um, it looks like your mom still lives here. Except for your clothes, I don’t see anything that belongs to you.”
He shrugged, but Summer was right.
Brock might be the only one living here now, but this was still Mama’s house. Her presence still permeated the cottage, from the framed prints and family photos on the vintage flowered wallpaper, to the vases and knickknacks on the bookshelves. He hadn’t changed the furnishings or decor since his mother’s death.
“I keep meaning to get to it,” he said, “But I’ve been too damned busy to sort through Mama and Gran’s belongings and figure out what to donate or sell. Plus, I’m basically only here to sleep and cook, so cleaning out the place is at the bottom of my priority list.”
“I understand,” she said. “Plus, it would probably stir up a bunch of grief and feelings of loss. Autumn is the one who cleaned out Grandpa’s side of the closet in Grandma Abigail and Grandpa Frank’s house on our ranch, because Grandma just couldn’t face going through all of his stuff. But it has to be done, eventually, or it’s never really going to feel likeyourplace.”
He blew out a breath. Summer’s words scraped against a still-raw spot. “I’m… not ready yet,” he confessed. “But soon.”
