Page 23 of CowSex

“Drawer below the silverware.”

She frowns.

“Flatware?” I offer. She shrugs.

“Cutlery?”

“Ah, knives and forks.”

“Yeah.” I’m now beginning to wonder if we do, in fact, both speak English.

She passes me the cheese and the grater. I grate until she tells me there’s enough. She then throws a handful in with the beans, as well as some butter, and then stirs.

I set out plates and pull some knives and forks from the drawer, all the while feeling a little strange as we move around each other in my kitchen.

Other than a surface to fuck on, it’s been a long time since I shared any kind of space with anyone other than Kai, especially a woman.

Aside from Malia.

Once I’ve set the table, I get myself a beer from the fridge and sit back down. Two minutes later, she collects the plates from where I set them and puts them on the kitchen counter next to where she’s working before dropping three slices of toast on one plate, one slice on the other.

“Would you butter those, please?” she asks, setting the two plates back on the table just as another slice of toast pops out of the toaster.

Once the toast is all buttered, she pours the beans over the top of each slice before adding the remaining cheese.

“Tuck in, don’t be shy,” she orders. I stare down at my plate, wondering what the fuck I might have just agreed to eat.

“You got any pepper? Cheesy beans taste better with a bit of pepper.”

I get pepper from the cabinet and hand it to her first, watching as she adds it to her food. When she hands it back to me, I do the same.

“Would you like some help with that?” I ask when I realise she’s struggling to cut her food.

Her eyes meet mine across the table, and she lets out a frustrated sigh. “If you wouldn’t mind. Sorry to be such a pain.”

“I’m getting used to it.” I mean it as a joke and feel bad when she blinks as if she’s trying to clear tears from her eyes.

I pull her plate towards me and begin slicing through the beans to get to the toast as she watches me.

“Thank you for all of this.”

I look back up at her, but she moves her gaze to the plate.

“For slicing your food?”

“No,” she says quietly. “For letting me stay and letting me have something to eat.”

Her words cause an ache in my gut that travels to my chest, and I have no clue why.

“I’m not a fucking monster. I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot last night, but that was just a misunderstanding.”

I slide her plate back across to her, and as she digs into her food, I do the same. We eat in silence for just a few seconds before I have to speak. “Well, fuck, who would have thought?”

When my eyes meet hers across the table, her smile and her dimple are back.

“You likey?”

“It’s good.”