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She’s not wearing her usual baggy clothes today. I’m not sure where she got the maternity clothes, but she’s breathtaking in her jean shorts and T-shirt that saysTacos for Two,Please.
Her and hertacos.
I run my hand down my sweaty chest. I have the air on high, but I get hot, no matter what, when I’m working on machine engines. “You like what yousee?”
She lifts her gaze back up my body and grins playfully. “Oh, Ilovewhat Isee.”
“You know, I’m more than just a hot, leanbody.”
I curl my arm around her shoulders to pull her into me and plant a kiss on her lips. She doesn’t even flinch. Us touching has become so natural. Not only does it feel good, having her here, but she also showed up without my asking. She took the time to make lunch and came to surprise me. She can deny it all she wants, but she’s falling forme.
“I’m starving. What did you whip up forus?”
She glances around the room. “It’s asurprise.”
I gesture toward the other side of the garage. “We have a table and shit in the office, if you want to eat in there, or we can gooutside?”
“Outside. I’ve been quite the hermit lately. I could use somesun.”
“You know the remedy to thatproblem?”
She wrinkles her cute nose in annoyance. “Funny. I’ll start venturing out of my apartment when the time isright.”
“I hope it’s before our kids turnsixteen.”
She shoves my side and pulls away when we reach the picnic table underneath two weeping willows. My grandfather built the table decades ago for when my grandmother would bring himlunch.
I rub my hands together when we sit down. “So, what have wegot?”
Her eyes widen in reluctance. “They say it’s the gesture, not the gift,right?”
Did she bring cheese and crackers? A Snickers bar and SunnyDelight?
“I’ll enjoy whatever youbrought.”
She draws in a breath when I open the cooler and start dragging out its contents. There are plastic bags with sandwiches inthem.
“I love me some peanut butter and jelly,” I say upon further inspection. The next item is a bag of tortilla chips large enough to feed Maven’s entire preschool and then a covered bowl. I open it and can’t stop the cheesy smile from hitting my lips. “Andguacamole.”
“I’m giving you a run for your money on the best guac in BlueBeech.”
“Let’s taste-test it, shall we?” I open the bag of chips and dip one into theguacamole.
It’s good, definitely not as good as mine, but I can tell she worked hard on it. She analyzes me chewing it likes she’s a contestant onTopChef.
“You killed it. I’ll bring over my trophy for you later thisevening.”
She raises a brow. “You’re just saying that because we’re havingsex.”
“There are better things I could say to you to get laid than”—I stop to fake a smoldering gaze I saw onThe Bacheloronce—“Hey, girl, you make excellent guacamole. Let’s fuck in a bed of guacamole, have it served at our wedding, and name our children Guac andMole.”
She throws a chip at me while trying to contain her laughter and then slides the sandwich in front of me. “Now, eat your PB and J and shut up. I slaved all day, makingthis.”
I scarf down the two sandwiches she made me and make sure I moan with every bite of herguacamole.
She looks from side to side. “So … is there anyone elsehere?”
“No. Just me today. I’m sure you know, Hudson is feeding Stella strawberries inbed.”
