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“I did sleep.” I pushed him back. “What smells so good?”
“My mom’s famous chicken enchilada bake.” He caressed my cheek, studying the lump on my forehead. It didn’t look as bad as I thought it would. The skin hadn’t broken. The bump was only the size of a quarter and had minor bruising surrounding it.
“It’s famous?”
“Not really, but the family loves it. Are you hungry? I can serve you.”
“I’m starving, but I’ll get it.” I went to get up.
“No, you won’t.” Levi placed his hand on my thigh.
“I’ll get it,” Mercy said. “It smells fantastic.”
“There’s enough to last a few days. Help yourself to some.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“How are you really feeling?” He returned his attention to me.
“Mostly tired. Did you take care of whatever you were doing?” Why did I ask him that? His life was his business, not mine. If we told each other everything we did, it would be like we were a couple. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”
“Why? I don’t mind questions. I might not be able to give you a straight answer if it’s about the club, but I don’t have anything to hide. Ask me anything.”
Great, this was what I wanted to avoid.
“Did you want to eat with us?”
He cocked his head and raised his eyebrow.
“You said to ask you anything.” I smiled sheepishly.
“Here you are.” Mercy handed me a plate. “Did you want some, Hustler?”
“No thanks.” He lifted my legs and sat on the sofa, draping them over his thighs. “I’ll take a beer if you have one, though.”
“We sure do. I think I’ll have one to go with the enchilada bake.” Mercy hummed, sniffing the food.
“I’d love a beer.” I cut into my meal.
“Sorry, sweetheart. No booze for you for another six months.” He rubbed his hand on my stomach.
It surprised me how much he seemed excited about the baby. I knew he liked me when we were together, and he had tried to persuade me to go on a real date, but I couldn’t.
“Technically, it’s twenty-seven more weeks, so less than six months.” I scowled, forking a bite, then shoved it into my mouth.
“Thank you for setting me straight.” He gave me one of his panty-melting slow winks.
“Don’t get cute with me,” I grumbled while chewing. “Oh my gosh. I’ve never tasted anything so delicious.”
“My mom will be thrilled you like it.”
“Like it? I love it.” I shoved more into my mouth. “No joke, it’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time with just the right amount of heat from the jalapeños.”
“Yes, it’s phenomenal,” Mercy said, bouncing in the chair and humming her delight.
“Do you think she’ll give me the recipe?” I asked Levi. I didn’t cook a lot, but I could hold my own in the kitchen. When I had learned to read, I would check out cookbooks from the library. Eventually, I’d learned to follow a recipe.
“Sure. But she’d probably fix all the enchilada bakes you can eat. It’s just what she does.” He smiled proudly, and he should be proud. A mother who cooked for her family was a dream in my eyes.
