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Oh. The relief that hit his body was more noticeable than it should have been. His muscles relaxed, and breathing seemed to come just a little bit easier.
“Are you a chef?” Zoey asked.
He smiled. “Only in my dreams.”
Jasmine looked at him, her eyes flashing with something akin to recognition.
“If you work hard, your dreams can come true. Right, Mommy?” Zoey turned towards her mother.
Jasmine met her daughter’s gaze, her face softening as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind the little girl’s ear. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”
The moment seemed so intimate between mother and daughter. It was obviously a conversation they’d had before. This precious exchange tugged at his heart. A piece of him wanted to be part of it.
“What are you making?” Zoey swiveled back towards him.
“Ravioli. I hope you like crab. If not, I can make some plain cheese ones.” He hadn’t exactly planned this dinner with a kid in mind.
“Do I like crab, Mommy?”
“We’ll find out.” Jasmine winked.
He got to work with his small captive audience watching him roll sheets of dough and slice them into squares. He used a Ziplock bag with the corner cut off to pipe the filling onto the squares of pasta. He made some with plain ricotta and cheese, just in case Zoey didn’t care for the seafood ones.
“This is so fancy,” Jasmine said.
Fancy was not a word he’d use to describe the mess on the table before him. But the more he learned about Jasmine, the more he wanted to know. What kind of life had she led? Where was Zoey’s father? Did she ever have anyone who took the time to notice the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled?
“Can I help?” Zoey asked.
“Uh, yeah. I’m going to brush the edges with this egg wash. If you clean your hands first, you can help with that part.”
Zoey clapped and scooted off her chair before running to the kitchen sink. Jasmine wasn’t far behind, pulling out a stool that was folded up between the refrigerator and the counter. They joined him once again and he showed Zoey how to line the edges with just enough egg wash. Jasmine’s gaze burned hot on him as he patiently showed the little girl how to press the second pasta layer on and get all the air bubbles out.
He’d never actually spent time with kids before. He was lost as to how to talk to her or what she was capable of, but Jasmine’s smile never left her face, so he must have been doing something right.
Once he finished the Alfredo sauce and boiled the pasta, it was time for plating. He gave Zoey one crab ravioli and the rest cheese. Jasmine had moved the sunflowers to the center of the table and gathered drinks for them all. Water for her and Zoey, and a beer for him.
Atlas set the steaming plates of pasta in front of them before going back for his. He joined them, watching and waiting as they both took their first bite.
Zoey scrunched up her nose before spitting out half a ravioli on the napkin next to her. “This is yucky.”
Jasmine’s face flushed red. Her tone was firm, but kind. “Zoey Evans, that’s really rude. Mr. Atlas spent a lot of time making us this dinner. Remember what you should say when you don’t like something?”
Zoey looked down. “No, fank you.”
“That’s right.”
“It’s quite okay. Maybe you’ll like the plain cheese ones?” Atlas offered.
Zoey looked at her mother. Jasmine nodded towards the plate. The little girl picked up a piece of cheese ravioli with her spoon and tentatively licked the edge. It must have been to her liking because she stuffed the whole thing in her mouth and chewed. She smiled and her eyes widened. “Mmmm.”
Atlas chuckled. “Seems I’ve won over a critic. What do you think?”
Jasmine focused back on her plate and took a bite. Watching the fork disappear between those pink, glossy lips shouldn’t have been erotic, especially with a child at the table. But goddamn, it was. She licked her lips and his cock stirred to life. A spark of lust lit inside, flamed with each tantalizing flick of her tongue. Forget dinner. He wanted to taste her.
“I have to say. You’ve proven my assumptions about your cooking skills wrong. That’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” Jasmine sipped her water.
I bet you’d be good to eat. Fuck! What was he thinking? She was the owner of the inn he was trying to buy. Not to mention a mother. He might not have much experience with kids, but he knew enough to know that you didn’t get involved with a woman if she had a kid and you didn’t plan on sticking around.
