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Duke:How’s it going over there, bro?
Me:She made dinner.
Stan:Not the taste I was thinking, but still good.
Duke:Nice.
“Do you normally eat at the island or the table?” Cassidy asks with her back to me as she makes up two plates for us.
“Wherever you want is fine,” I say, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer.
She turns to me. “I—” She stops dead, staring at me with a clear, readable expression as I crack open a beer and take a swig.
It’s a look she’s given me a few times in the last week when I helped her out around the trailer. And I consciously flex at her obvious stare. “You what?”
“I what?” she questions automatically, a hitch in her breath.
I cock a half grin. “You were going to say something.”
Cassidy turns away quickly, clearly flustered. She’s cute when she’s like this. And I find myself wondering what else I can do or say to get her whole body blushing with this delicious flush on her face right now.
“We can eat here.”
“What do you want to drink?” I ask as she takes the plates and positions them on the kitchen island. At first, she sets them next to each other, but then she moves one so it’s a stool away.
I fight back a burst of laughter as I say, “I can put a shirt on if it’s bothering you.”
She shakes her head with a laugh. “You’re such an ass.” She pushes the plates back beside one another. “There’s a bottle of wine I bought, it’s in the door of the fridge.”
I get the wine and set it out, watching with amusement as she reaches up high for the wine glasses I’ve never used sitting on the very top shelf. Getting on the tips of her toes, she stretches her body as far as it’ll go in an attempt to reach them.
I come up behind her, pressing my chest into her back as I reach over her head and grab one for her with ease. “There’s a stool in the laundry if you need it,” I can’t help but comment.
She spins around, pinned between me and the counter now at her back. “I don’t need a stool,” she mutters, snatching the glass from my hand with a glare as she slips away from me.
“You sure ‘bout that?” I smirk, finally taking a seat.
Cassidy rolls her beautiful eyes with a smile playing on those luscious lips of hers. She opens the wine and pours herself half a glass, putting the rest away and coming to sit beside me. We start to eat with Frankie at our feet, dying to catch anything that falls.
“How much did you spend today on food?” I ask, shoveling in a forkful of the best chicken parmesan I’ve had in my life. Cassidy shrugs, ignoring me and taking a bite of her own. “Cassidy.”
She sighs, swallowing before she responds, “I didn’t buy much. Enough for dinner tonight and breakfast through the weekend.”
“How much?”
“I’d have to look at the receipt. I had to get a few other things,” she tells me. “I’m sure you saw some of it. Is it okay that I left everything in your bathroom? I can move it if—”
“No.” The very thought of her moving any of it puts me on edge. “Leave it. It’s fine.”
We continue eating, and I finish long before she does. “There’s more if you want me to get it for you,” she says.
“How much left is there?” I ask.
“Well, when I cook, I make enough to take for lunch the next day. So, I just doubled that. Do you pack a lunch or…?”
“I buy,” I grunt. “Stan usually grabs me something from wherever he’s buying for the day. But I’ll definitely start taking leftovers if you got any. This was great, Cass. Seriously, thank you for cooking.”
Her smile is radiant. “I’m glad you liked it.”
