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Then I stormed out of the room before I let the other man down below do the talking, but I’m pretty sure I heard her snicker on the way out.
The kitchen has its own area that's blocked off by a door, and when I make it through, I’m on a mission. I grab the plates filled with Cajun pasta, smoked salmon, and salad packed with nuts, greenery, and vinaigrette for taste. I didn't personally make it, but one day, when I have the leisure time, the first thing I am doing is cooking for her. By the time I make it out, she’s poured the glass of red wine for us both, and the lit candle between the roses is flickering gently as she gazes out the window.
Her eyes catch mine with the reflection, and she looks back at me with that soft shimmer to her irises.
“Dinner has arrived,” I say while placing the dishes down like I'm some actual chef.
A subtle smile is still curled on her lips. “This looks scrumptious. I would say it's much better than my mushroom soup.”
I fold in my lips, sit down, and say nothing.
She huffs and looks at me with an astonished stare. “I thought you liked it!”
I tilt my head with a pinched expression. “I don’t like mushrooms.”
“Then why did you eat it?”
“For you.”
That settles her down; her shoulders drooping slightly and her eyes on me. I never told her I don't like it because why would I want to take away that priceless moment between us. I would eat rocks if that were all she had.
“I’ll eat whatever you have. I’m not a complicated man.”
Her lashes flutter, and she looks away before clearing her throat. “Next time, tell me. I would rather you spit it out than to suffer. Next time I’ll make sure to have something you like.”
Next time.Hope spread over me like a coat. Don't get too excited, fool, she never confirmed.
“You can also bring yourself. I like that very much.” I grin as I grab the stem of my wine glass.
Anita narrows her gaze with a sweet chuckle and takes her glass as well, the black polish matching the crimson liquid.
She raises her glass and watches me. “A toast. To utter chaos.”
A dark smile curls fully. “To mayhem.”
We clink our glasses. But then she looks at our joined glasses for a second before flicking her eyes back to me. “To GenCre.”
A silence falls between us, and I'm sure my tie is choking me again. I want to ask if she's going to stay so damn bad, but I’m nervous about her answer more than anything, and I've never been more afraid than anything in the past twelve years.
“To GenCre.”To us.
She smiles along with her eyes, and we take a sip, leering at each other over the rim. The candle's flame dancing between us, signaling the burn that's heightening our explosive connection. I want to flip this table and kiss her, but then the house would burn down.
I accept the taste of the wine as my gaze is piercing into her. It's not something I’d drink occasionally or ever again, but it's refreshing to finally let loose and do something besides go on missions, kill, and plot the next move. I feel relaxed for the first time, and the message from earlier is nowhere in my mind.
Seconds later, we cut into our food and ate in a comfortable silence; I watch her like a creep as her mouth chews and eats the penne pasta. How can she turn something so simple as eating into an erotic scene?
“This is way better than mushroom soup,” she adds with a snicker. “Did you make it?”
I shake my head, pointing at her plate. “No, but soon I’ll show you my mad chef skills.”
Her smile softens. “Yes, one day.”
She turns toward the open view outside. I wanted her to eat under the starry sky, but it's too cold for that, so I figured this will do. The view of the woods is eerie even with the little lights Mal strung up, the trees shift side to side, but the stars shine boldly with little specs and waning moon along with it.
“I’m still shocked you have a home here in the woods.” she says, looking back at me. “Why?”
I shrug. “I needed a place with my own solidarity. Until I found myself still at the school days on end.”