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Rebecca paused in the middle of breaking eggs over the bowl. “Why do you sound skeptical? I assume I cooked for you before all this happened.”

“We don’t spend a lot of time in here, no. Every once in a while we get the urge to cook. Then we have to eat what we cook, and, well, we decide that takeout is much easier and tastier.”

“I… don’t cook for you?” When Cass shook her head, Rebecca frowned. “So, I didn’t get over it?” she said more for her own benefit than Cass’s. Then she looked up at Cass. “I used to love to cook. It made me feel normal. Then one day Samantha got mad at me and… you know this story, don’t you?”

“Yeah. But you never told me you loved cooking.”

“You said when we cook, it isn’t that great. I stopped cooking after that episode, Cass. Maybe I never started up again.” Rebecca leaned against the counter and sighed. “That makes me sad, actually.”

“It’s never too late to start up again if that’s what you want, Becca. And if you do, know I will never expect you to cook, but I will always be grateful. And you’ll always have me as a prepper.”

The sentiment touched Rebecca. “Thank you. Let’s see if I burn down the house first, then we’ll go from there.”

Though the lasagna incident popped into her head, Cass laughed. Rebecca’s feelings were her priority, so Cass kept that memory to herself.

“I do the burning. That’s why I’m relegated to prep work. Which I’m still totally willing to do if you need help.”

“I would like to do this for you if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely okay. I’ll get out of your way and go take a shower. I’m, uh, gonna go upstairs to our bathroom, ‘kay? I won’t be long.”

Rebecca nodded, trying and failing to keep from imagining the image of Cass in the shower. She was so focused on not undressing Cass in her mind that she forgot to ask how Cass liked her eggs. With a shrug, she went back to her task. If she knew anything about Cass Giles, it was that she would eat practically anything as long as it wasn’t vegetables.

It was difficult keeping your eyes on the road when your passenger looked freakin’ awesome. When Rebecca asked Cass what she should wear that night, Cass picked out a few outfits and let Rebecca make the final decision. Her choice was perfection. The pale pink V-neck jumpsuit was as elegant as it was sexy, with the plunge of the V carefully framing Rebecca’s cleavage. Cass knew exactly how soft that skin was, and her fingers itched to feel that delicate smoothness.

“You look beautiful,” Cass said, chancing a quick glance in Rebecca’s direction.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that,” Rebecca chuckled. “And each time, it’s nice to hear, so thank you. I found this outfit in the closet. It’s so unlike anything I’ve worn before, but I have to admit it’s quite empowering.” She took her time, drinking in the sight of Cass in her black jeans and a white button-down shirt. The shirt was unbuttoned enough to give Rebecca an exquisite view of Cass’s tattooed chest. Tattoos spilled out from under Cass’s rolled-up sleeves as well. Weirdly enough, Rebecca never thought of herself as someone who liked the tattooed look, but on Cass, it was intoxicatingly sexy.

“You look very handsome,” Rebecca said finally, her voice a little breathless. Her heartbeat picked up its pace when Cass grinned at her. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I have a tattoo here,” Rebecca touched low on her hip. “I don’t remember getting it. Or my belly ring. Were they because of you?”

Cass’s stomach clinched, thinking of Rebecca’s tattoo. Don’t freakin’ get her started on the sexy as fuck belly ring. God, she wished they were because of her, but she shook her head. “Those were all you, Becca. I’m not sure when you got them, but it was way before we met and for a good cause.”

“One that you’re not going to tell me?”

Cass glanced over. “I can if you like. But it wouldn’t be your version of the story.” She paused, allowing that to sink in for a moment. “Becca, your memories are stuck in that time twenty years ago. Those feelings are fresh for you. Why do you think you got the tattoo?”

“You spend too much time with my aunt,” Rebecca groused playfully. But it was a good question, a thoughtful one that allowed Rebecca to determine for herself what would make her want to get a tattoo. She closed her eyes, envisioning the ink on her hip—bird in flight. “It feels like freedom to me. I believe I would have gotten it when I felt free from Samantha’s hold.”

Cass nodded. Though Rebecca carried the guilt of Samantha’s death until recently, she left behind the meek sub that Samantha had made her into.

“It’s so weird,” Rebecca began, turning slightly in her seat to look at Cass. “I don’t feel like I thought I would.”

“What do you mean?”

“D-do you know what happened with Samantha?”

“Yeah,” Cass answered softly. She knew, and she hated Samantha for it.

“So you know what I did.”

“I know what she did to you and what you survived.”

“Cass…”