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Lu stands and I do too. “At least let me help.”
“You’ve done enough today.” I don’t miss the tiny smirk she gives me.
“You ain’t spending time in the kitchen while I sit here on my ass.” I put my hand on the small of her naked back. Christ, this bikini is driving me up the goddamn wall all over again. “C’mon, I’ll be your sous.”
Mom waves us away when Lu glances in her direction. “We’ll be fine. Y’all take your time.”
Lu looks at me. “You sure?”
“Sure as you were earlier today.”
She bites her lips. Eyes lit up.
I literally attack her when we’re in the galley. Yank her against me. Palm her ass. Wrap my other hand around that pretty fucking neck of hers. Tom’s tail bats against my calves. I ignore it.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
Her hand finds my stomach. “How do you think I feel? Ordinarily I’d never ask you to put a shirt on, but . . . yeah, for the love of God, put a shirt on!”
“Never.” I kiss her mouth. “Now what are we making?”
Lu’s only been in my kitchen a few times now. She’s never cooked it in it, other than taking fifteen minutes to “whip up” that gazpacho after browsing through an Ina Garten cookbook I bought her. But she learns its flow quickly, grabbing a knife from the drawer beside the sink, opening the fridge to pull out a block of cheese and a bag of leaf lettuce.
I’m always thanking Kurt for keeping my kitchen well-provisioned. I’m more grateful than ever for his help.
Lu nods at the ears of corn in a bowl on the counter. “Why don’t you shuck those for me, then cut the kernels off the cob? I’m thinking I’ll do a twist on a seven-layer salad.”
“Yes ma’am. I don’t know what that is, but sounds tasty.”
I get out a pair of cutting boards. Hand one to her and keep the other for myself. We stand side by side in my kitchen and prep the salad together. She wiggles her hips to Alanis’s “Head Over Feet” as she gives me instructions. I hand her bowls. Measure the ingredients for the dressing. Halve a pint of cherry tomatoes. I give Tom nibbles of bacon and cheese.
In between, we sing along to one song. Another. She grins at me when I nail a particularly complicated part of “Thank U.”
The salad comes together beautifully. I watch as Lu assembles the ingredients in neat lines—lettuce, cheese, peas. Crumbled bacon and those corn kernels and tomatoes.
Seeing the satisfied smile on her face when she steps back to survey her work, my dick twitches.
“Okay, now that is one big, beautiful salad,” she says.
I take her hand and put it on my half-chubby. “No shit.”
“Salad makes you horny?” She laughs. “Who knew?”
“How many times I gotta tell you it’s you who makes me horny? Especially when you’re bossing it up like this. Not gonna lie, I kinda wish Mom and Marsha would get on their way so we could—”
“Do more butt stuff?” Lu gives my dick a squeeze.
I sputter. “Are you an angel sent from heaven?”
“Definitely no angel.” She shakes her head. “But I’ll make you feel like heaven.”
We burst out laughing at her cheesy line. Her eyes are watery with happiness. Skin golden from the sun. She’s working her magic in my kitchen.
Working her magic on Mom and Marsha. Just like she did with Tuck and Abel and all my other friends today.
Dolly’s been alive with activity for days now. I haven’t felt alone once since Lu showed up on the island. I didn’t have to be alone today. And I’m definitely not gonna be alone tonight.
I’m also not working, and I don’t miss being in the office one damn bit.
I’m hit by another wave of joy. Terror hot on its heels.
I want this. Friends and family around. Work in its proper place. Not front and center the way it’s been for the last decade.
I want this beautiful woman making beautiful things in my home every night. I wanna make ’em with her.
I want to participate in life. No more hustling my way through it. Stop-and-smell-the-roses type shit.
But what if she decides she doesn’t want any of that? What if we have this magical week together, but she ultimately decides to go back to her life in Charlotte? Sounds like she’s got a great thing going on there, her rat bastard of an ex notwithstanding.
Losing her will crush me all over again. And I ain’t prepared for that.
Lu puts a hand on my stomach again. “You all right?”
I look down at her. The familiarity that already exists between our bodies—how they touch, respond, move together—makes my chest twist.
I press a kiss to her jaw. “I’ll be okay. Let’s eat.”
“Wow,” Mom says when I set the bowl on the table outside. I even have to swat Tom out of the way.
