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“Maybe I’ll dye it for you.”
After kissing me on the cheek, she replied, “I like you just the way you are.”
“Right back at you, babe.” Glancing back at the kitchen, I asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
I winced. “I wasn’t a very good date tonight by only feeding you wings and beer.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“Since I like to carb load a little before I swim, I can promise you a full meal.” I motioned for her to have a seat at the counter. “What sounds good?”
“What do you have?”
“Let me see.” After throwing open the fridge, I eyed some of the leftovers. “Hmm, there’s not much in here after the wedding this weekend and then my parents being gone. Liam and I tend to live off take-out when we’re on our own.” I took out a box of Chinese food and wrinkled my nose at the smell. “Looks like I’m making something.”
Cocking her head at me, Gaby teased, “Like a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Give me a little more credit than that, smart-ass.”
She held up her hands. “My bad. I didn’t know along with your big-dick energy you were a chef as well.”
I laughed. “Do you like shrimp?”
“I do.”
“How about scampi?”
“I’m half Sicilian.”
I winced. “Shit. I forgot about that.”
“What’s the problem with that?” She laughed.
“You might think my shrimp scampi sucks.”
With a warm smile, she countered, “Nothing you prepared me could possibly suck.”
“You say that now, but now that memory serves me, your grandfather owns an Italian restaurant.”
“He does.”
“Double shit,” I groaned. Glancing at the fridge, I said, “I could make something else…something not Italian.”
After hopping off her stool, Gaby came over to me. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she planted a kiss on my lips. “Stop getting your undies in a twist, Fitzgerald. I’ll love anything you make me because you’re cooking for me.”
Snorting, I then protested, “Goes to show how much you know.” I dipped my head to whisper into her ear. “I’m not wearing underwear.”
Her giggle echoed against my chest sending a warm tingle from the top of my head down to my toes. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she mused.
“How about an appetizer of Irish sausage?” I teased as my hands dipped to grab her ass.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss. I hear it’s thick and juicy.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you keep talking about it rather than cooking for me, I’m going to skewer it and roast it over a fire.”
