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She grinned, rising to her feet and peeling off her torn shirt, tossing it aside. Then she reached for the button on her skirt, popping it, and sliding the zipper down. She stepped out of her skirt and kicked it aside. “Well, that was perfectly amazing, but now I’m starving. And could do with a shower.”
“Okay.” I pushed to my feet. “Bathroom’s through there. There are towels in the cabinet. I’ll see what there is to eat.”
“Great. Kiss me before I go.”
I did, brushing a light kiss across her full lips before easing back. There was a light in her eyes when she smiled at me that had my heart rolling over, making me feel strange.Don’t turn into a needy asshole.
“Be right back.”
“Take your time.”
She grabbed her bag and headed for the bathroom, her ass swaying, and I could only stare after her. Then I straightened my clothes and scrubbed my hands over my face. That reeling, off kilter feeling was back. Wine, that’s what I needed. I snagged a bottle from the rack and poured out two glasses.
Food. She wanted food. I opened the fridge and poking around. Inside, everything was immaculately neat, just the way I liked it. I glanced over the shelves - fresh scallops, tucked away in the corner, perfect for a late-night dish. Next to them, a lemon and a bunch of fresh parsley caught my eye. I grabbed these and shut the fridge, my brain already ticking through the steps of the recipe.
Laying out the ingredients on the counter, I felt the familiar calm of routine seeping back in. Cooking was like a balm, a way tobring order back into a world suddenly tipped off its axis by a pair of whiskey brown eyes, a punk rock attitude and the best sex I’d ever had.
As the butter sizzled in a pan, I grabbed a chopping board and knife and finely chopped the parsley, losing myself in the rhythm, the familiar movements. With the scallops frying, the lemon scent filled the kitchen.
“Holy fuck, something smells good.” Stef appeared, her hair damp, her skin scrubbed clean of her heavy stage makeup. She looked young and fresh.
I turned away. “Scallops. With parsley and lemon.”
“God, I’m starving.”
“Have a seat.”
She slid onto a stool at the kitchen island and I served up, passing her a glass of wine. “What a gentleman.”
“Something like that.”
Taking a bite, she closed her eyes and groaned, making me smile. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m interested to know how you learned to cook like this, since from what I hear, it’s not a Rivers brothers’ trait.”
I frowned in confusion.
“Wolfe, deciding to take cooking classes, so he could help Esme with the kids,” she clarified.
“Oh. Right.” I shrugged. “I just like it. It relaxes me.”
“So it’s just a hobby?”
“Yes.”
“Are you always this good at your hobbies?”
“No point doing something if you aren’t going to be good at it.”
“I guess.”
Her tone was loaded, and it made me frown. I silently picked up my fork. I wasn’t in the mood for whatever that tone meant.
CHAPTER 5
Grayson