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I click us into my garage.
“Whoa!” she says. “Since when do places like this have private garages?” She stares out the window like a kid.
“It’s an option. Most people use the covered parking.”
“But not Dr.Drew Daniels.”
We pull inside. Ensley bends down to take it in. “You could shoot a home magazine spread in your garage.”
It’s probably cleaner than most. I’ll give her that. “I don’t use it much.”
She fiddles with the strips of her skirt as I shut the garage door. I wonder if she’s nervous. If now that we’re here, she’s having second thoughts.
I don’t normally have this moment. I don’t bring women to my home. Our trysts happen at hotels, or occasionally at her place.
Ensley’s different,my head warns.
Too late,I tell it.
Ensley still peers out the window.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says. “Just taking in the spot Drew Daniels calls home.” She flashes a smile. “And to spend time with my mother’s namesake.”
I head out of the car, and we meet by the back door. “You will get plenty of her here. She doesn’t like to be alone, and she might be jealous of any attention I pay to you.”
Ensley giggles as I open my door. “We’ll have to find a way to share you.”
We pass through the laundry room, and Ensley looks everything over, from the gleaming white washer and dryer to an overflowing basket of workout clothes, scrubs, and white lab coats. “Tomorrow’s laundry day,” I say.
“It’s all good,” she says. “You’re neat.”
I take her hand as we move into the kitchen. “Now you get to see where I truly live.”
The kitchen is definitely not pristine. There are pots I didn’t get to this afternoon. A dish rack next to the sink is piled high with washed and rinsed dishes that weren’t dry enough to put away before I left. Thesideboard is full of apples, bananas, avocados, and potatoes. “I like to keep things handy.”
“So you cook?” she asks.
“Only on the weekends. I get in too late during the week.”
She seems shocked. “But you do it.”
“Sure. Something about the alchemy of assembling random things and making a dish appeals to me.”
She wanders the kitchen, pausing to pick up a spatula or straighten a towel. Is she nervous?
I can cure that.
I fall in behind her. “I’ve been thinking about something.” I circle her waist with my hands.
She looks over her shoulder at me. “What’s that?”
“Making you come on this counter.” I turn her to face me and lift her by the waist to set her on it. “Like this.” I grab both her knees and whip them wide.
She sucks in a breath.
I step forward and our bodies connect. Then my mouth is on hers.
