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My stomach breaks the awkward silence with a loud growl. I'm actually grateful instead of embarrassed. I don't want us to spend what little time we have mourning the end before it comes.
"What is that incredible smell?" I realize that I haven't actually eaten a full meal today. My breakfast was two cups of coffee and a granola bar, and I'd barely eaten a few bites of my lunch before it got ruined.
"Ah! I made you something special. Now, it's not fancy. I'm not like a great cook or anything. But my mum makes this a lot, and I thought you might like it. Fair warning, potatoes are kind of a love language in my family."
"I love potatoes," I assure him. It's an understatement. Before I met Cal, I would have sworn that there was nothing better on Earth. Now orgasms get first place, but potatoes are a close second.
The realization that I left behind the dessert I made strikes me. “Oh shit, Cal! I left your dessert at work—I got distracted with Cherith’s drama and left it in the fridge in the break room. I’m so sorry!”
Ugh, I was so proud of that pie, too. And he’d specifically requested vanilla, which had made me feel sexy, since it’s my chosen fragrance for bath products. Perfumy smells give me headaches, and vanilla is just so calming and understated. I love that it seems to drive Cal wild, though.
“Well then, that’ll just give me an excuse to visit you at work for lunch tomorrow,” he says with a wink. He beams at my relieved smile. "Have a seat. Let me take care of you. I know you've been working hard all day, and dealing with bullshitfrom the sound of it. You gossip, I'll get you something to drink."
"Not really much to gossip about," I say with a laugh as Cal pulls a chair out for me.
After handing me a glass of ice water, he opens the fridge while he asks if I want a beer. "Or wine, apparently. Ezra must have dropped this off." Cal's brow furrows, and I can't decide what his expression is. "Hold on a second," he says, and heads through what looks like a butler's pantry.
A door opens. The garage maybe? It closes and Cal walks back through the kitchen, muttering that "his car is here" under his breath. He disappears down a hallway, returning a minute later, looking confused.
"What's up?" I ask him, concerned.
"Well. I invited Ezra to join us for dinner—I hope that's okay."
"I mean, sure, of course." It's his house, after all.
I’m both glad and disappointed that he apparently declined. It probably would have been awkward, seeing as I’m sleeping with his best friend. But I’m also pathetically in love with both of them, and I feel like something has been sparking between Ezra and me.
There's something wrong with me, I know.
"He didn't want to?"
"He didn't really say one way or the other, but it looks like he was here. He left a few bottles of wine, at least. He’s not here, but his car is in the garage."
"Should we worry?"
"Nah, I'm sure he's fine. I'll shoot him a text. In the meantime, wine?" He holds up two bottles, and I choose the rosé, which ends up being crisp and delicious. On an empty stomach, it only takes a few sips for me to relax, and I begrudgingly push my glass away until I can get something else in my stomach.
Cal pulls a dish out of the oven, and the smell of savory herbs and butter invades my nose and mouth. I nearly moan. I try not to bounce in my seat or act too eager as Call makes us both plates and sets one in front of me and then sets a few more things on the table before pulling up a chair next to me.
"Alright, so what we have here is basically potato lasagna, homemade soda bread, and a spring mix salad. I didn't know what kind of dressing you like, so I bought a few, but I also made a vinaigrette."
"Vinaigrette sounds perfect. This all looks and smells so amazing. I skipped lunch today, so my senses are on overload right now." I’m trying to keep myself from visibly drooling.
Is there anything that isn't perfect about this man? Tall and muscled like a sexy ass lumberjack, ruggedly handsome, wicked sense of humor, massive dick and a tongue that could send me happily to an early grave.ANDhe can cook?Swoon.
I take a bite of the main dish. The perfectly golden potatoes, melty cheese, ham, and vibrantly colored veggies, all layered in decadent savory sauce, melt over my tongue.
Holy hell.This is amazing. This might be the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. I never want my mouth to be full of anything but this and—
"What?" I ask
Cal is staring at me, his fork paused halfway to his mouth, which is hanging slightly open. He blinks slowly, puts his fork down, and leans forward, clearing his throat.
"I have a new goal to force you to make that exact noise you just made in bed, and I'm picturing all the different ways I can make that happen.” He blows out a breath. “I never considered dinner could be foreplay." His accent is a little thicker right now, and it sends a delicious thrill up my spine.
I nearly choke. "Honestly, with you, just about anything could be foreplay."
“Eat,bláth fiáin. You’re going to need your energy,” he says huskily.
