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17
KATE
My stomach grumbles as the scents of chicken, roasted vegetables, and warmth waft through the air. I didn’t know warmth could be a smell, but it is. It’s cozy and homey, and my mouth waters even more. With my back against the armrest and the couch cushions pressed to my side, I keep my knees to my chest and balance the textbook on them. Focusing, however, is difficult. Because watching a grown man in his element in the kitchen is a thing of beauty. And watchingMackcook? Well, it’s dangerous, for sure.
Glancing over the edge of the couch for the thousandth time tonight, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. A black apron is wrapped around Macklin’s waist, and two LAU oven mitts cover his hands. He bends down and checks his dish in the oven. How can he look so freaking dorkyandattractive like this? It seriously isn’t fair.
When he stands up, he catches me staring and smiles. “It’s ready. Want some?”
“What’d you make?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Chicken pot pie.”
“You madehomemadechicken pot pie?”
“Technically, the chicken was leftover from last night, but yeah. You want some?” he repeats, lifting the green ceramic dish for me to inspect.
Even from here, it looks amazing.
All golden and flakey and delicious.
“I’m good, thanks.” I turn back to my textbook. Because it feels weird. Intimate, somehow. Mack cooking for me while I study. The fire crackling in the corner. And if Blake ever found out, I’d never hear the end of it.
Forcing myself to focus, I reread the same damn paragraph for the tenth time as Macklin putters around in the kitchen for another minute before rounding the couch with two plates in his hands.
“What are you doing?” I inquire.
He sets a plate loaded with chicken pot pie on the dark coffee table in front of me, then sits on the couch. “Just in case.”
“I said I was okay,” I remind him.
“Yeah. I know. So, what are you studying?”
“How aspartame metabolizes in the body.”
“No shit?”
I glance at him. “You’re surprised?”
“Had a hunch you were smart, but aspartame metabolizing in the body? Damn, Kate.”
“Don’t be too impressed. It’s pretty much all memorization, which is why my brain feels like mush now.”
“You wanna take a break?” He shovels chunks of carrot and potato into his mouth.
I shake my head. “Can’t.”
“Why not? You’ve been studying for almost an hour.”
“Yeah, and yet, I’ve retained almost nothing,” I mutter, staring at the textbook as the words jumble together.
“What’s your major?”
“Biochemistry.”
His eyes widen. “Damn.”
“Like I said, not a big deal.”
