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I dip my head at Grant. “Tell everyone I said thanks.”
I carefully lower Ari to the couch before standing, then gently scoop her into my arms, trying not to wake her. She shifts in my embrace, burrowing her face in my neck, and my heart explodes all over again.
Finn is already waiting, all our coats draped over one arm. “The car is already running,” he says. “I’ll open the door so you can get right in.”
As I get into the car, Ari stirs, groggily peering up at me. “Where are we going?”
Kissing her forehead, I whisper, “We’re going home, hun. Go back to sleep.”
She drops her head back down on my shoulder, nearly asleep again. But she whispers drowsily. “Did everyone like the food?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.” I kiss her again as the car accelerates, taking us back home. “Everyone loved it. It was the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.”
“Good,” she murmurs. “That’s all I wanted.”
I love her so much.
Chapter 17
ARI
“I think I’m going to have to fight off half the guys at the station for you.”
Cash comes up behind me and brushes my ponytail aside, kissing the back of my neck. His big hand comes around to rest on my belly, and he tugs me against him. He’s all warm, hard muscles and his lips nuzzle along my nape and up my jaw, sending little sizzles of electricity across my skin.
His fingers trail up my stomach, caressing the underside of my breasts. My nipples tighten and my core pulses with sudden need. As Cash’s breath whispers by my ear, I ask breathlessly, “Why?”
Humor tinges his words. “Because I’ve gotten at least half-a-dozen messages already saying how amazing you are, and asking when you’re coming back to visit.”
My breasts feel swollen, so sensitive to his touch. His thumb strokes around the tight point of my nipple, achingly slow. Then he lightly flicks it and I arch into his hand instinctively, a low moan vibrating in my throat.
“They just want”—my breath catches as Cash sucks at the skin beneath my ear, a tiny nip, then the soothing swirl of his tongue—“someone to cook for them.”
“No. That’s not it.” Cash spins me around and lifts me onto the counter, his hands lingering at my waist. He leans in and captures my mouth with his, tracing the seam of my lips before delving deeper. I clutch at his shoulders as the kiss continues, my body kindling into an inferno of need.
All my obligations—cooking, company, food in the oven—are faint memories as the throbbing in my womb intensifies. Lust-addled questions fire through my head—is there time for a quickie? On the counter? Will anything burn if I have sex with Cash right now?
But then the stupid oven puts an end to my questions, chiming as the timer goes off. As much as I want Cash right now, I can’t let the turkey burn. Not for our first official Thanksgiving at home.
I pull away from Cash, scowling over at the offending oven. “The turkey needs to come out.”
Cash sighs, still staring at me with a hungry gaze. “Remind me, why aren’t we doing pizza today?”
I start to wriggle to get down. “Because it’s our first Thanksgiving together, as a couple, at home. Our friends are coming. And I want you to have a real Thanksgiving here again.”
“Ah, hun.” A soft smile tugs at his lips. “You’re amazing. And that’s why the guys at the station all texted about you. Not because of the food, though it was great. But because of the effort you made to give everyone such a nice day.”
He dips his head, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “And you stay here. I’ll get the turkey out.”
While I should get down and check on the rest of the food, I decide to take a minute to admire Cash instead. He looks so handsome in his dark jeans and the sweater that matches the green in his eyes and his hair all messy from helping me in the kitchen. And his expression is so bright, so relaxed—he hasn’t stopped smiling all day.
He’s been so cute working as my assistant, too. Every time he’d help me with something, he’d run his hand through his hair and get this super-focused look on his face like he was about to tackle a huge business deal instead of making green bean casserole.
Cash turns away from the turkey to look at me. “I have to put foil over it, right?”
“Yeah. Just drape it over the turkey, and then tuck around the edges of the pan. It's called tenting.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Tenting?”
