Page 63 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)
Gretchen
“Did you guys decide what you wanted for dinner?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen after changing into a pair of pink yoga pants and an oversized pink, orange, and teal t-shirt. Gabe had insisted on bringing Jake’s racecar suitcase to the guest room, and my pink floral one to his room.
The pantry door was open, and Gabe and Jake were inside perusing the contents.
“Jake wanted fish sticks, but I don’t think I have any of those so he’s considering spaghetti and mashed potatoes.”
I nodded my head like that was a completely normal combination, then suggested, “Or, we could have chicken and mashed potatoes. Or spaghetti and meatballs.”
Gabe countered with, “ Or we could have lasagna?”
I still wasn’t willing to chance it.
“It’d take too long. That’s more of a weekend meal.”
Jake held up a bag of instant potatoes to show me.
“Jake want ’tatoes, Mama!”
“Chicken and mashed potatoes it is.”
“What can I do to help?”
I wanted to propose he occupy Jake while I prepared dinner, but I worried his “time with little kids” meter might be pegged.
Instead, I suggested, “Can you see what vegetables you have for another side?” while I fished the tablet from my purse and waved it at Jake.
My son took it and ran to the adjoining family room to situate himself on the couch .
I didn’t even have to set the game up for him, he knew exactly how to get it started. That’s how tech-savvy kids were these days.
He wasn’t able to use the potty consistently, but he knew how to operate technology.
I couldn’t decide if his generation was doomed or advanced.
Gabe stepped out of the pantry holding a can of green beans as I pulled a chicken packet from the freezer.
I didn’t love defrosting chicken in the microwave, but when you work all day, some things had to be compromised.
“What else can I do? And I swear if you tell me to open the can and cook them, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Well, how else are we supposed to eat them?” I teased.
He came up behind me and crowded me into the counter with his hands on my hips. Nuzzling my neck, he murmured, “I can do a lot more than open a can of green beans.”
Oh, I know you can.
“Put me to work, sweetheart.”
“You worked all day, then went to my house and worked some more, putting up cabinets. You deserve a break.”
“You worked all day, too. Maybe we should order takeout.”
“I like cooking, and honestly, there’s not much you can do. I mean, it’s thawing chicken in the microwave then baking it in the oven. The mashed potatoes are instant, and the green beans are from a can. It’s not a two-person job.”
He laid a soft kiss on my neck and subtly ground his cock against my ass while he cupped my boobs in his hands.
“Good, then you won’t mind if I distract you. ”
I decided to fight fire with fire.
“You should probably wait until later. I brought the lingerie.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning when his fingers dug into my hipbones, and he softly moaned in my ear, “Fuuuuuck.”
I loved having that effect on him. It made me feel beautiful, and maybe a little powerful, too.
****
Gabe
I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off Gretchen as she prepared dinner.
I knew I was getting in her way, yet I couldn’t find it in me to care. Gretchen Kelly flitting around my kitchen like a domestic goddess who belonged there was my weakness.
But Gretchen Kelly in yoga pants? My kryptonite.
Imagining ripping lingerie off her body later? Quite possibly the death of me.
But what a way to go.
I did make myself useful and set the table while she carefully cut Jake’s piece of chicken into small, bite-sized cubes. She did the same with his green beans, before putting a dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate.
“Jake, baby, come wash your hands. It’s time to eat.”
I expected stalling and bargaining for five more minutes, like my kids had a tendency to do when they were playing video games, but he just set the tablet on the cushion next to him then slid off the couch without argument.
She turned the faucet on and lifted him up so he could wash his hands at the kitchen sink.
Note to self: buy a step stool tomorrow.
Actually, I should probably buy two so there was one in the bathroom, as well.
I gave myself an internal shake.
They’re only staying until Thursday !
Okay, Friday, tops, if Henry needed to order a part. Although shipping times varied so I guess it could be Monday, maybe Tuesday.
I decided another week warranted the purchase of stools. I’d pick two up at the hardware store tomorrow.
Gretchen got Jake situated at the table, and I brought him his plate.
“Doesn’t this look good, buddy? Your mama is a good cook!”
Jake popped a piece of chicken in his mouth and dramatically nodded while he attempted to put potatoes on his toddler spoon. I looked over at Gretchen when I continued. “She’s spoiling me with all these home-cooked meals. I usually have to pick up my dinner.”
She set the serving bowls with the side dishes on the table then picked up the platter of chicken. A far cry from when I made the kids dinner and just served everything out of the pots and pans .
“I don’t know why you eat out so much. You have a perfectly stocked pantry and freezer,” she scolded as she set the chicken on the table.
“You said it yourself; cooking for one is no fun.”
“Yes but paying to eat out all the time has got to get expensive.”
I watched confused when she picked up my plate and scooped mashed potatoes onto it. I realized what she was doing and before she could fork a piece of chicken, I took the dish out of her hands.
“You don’t have to serve me.” I nodded to the place setting in front of her. “Make your plate.”
She looked surprised but did as I suggested while I continued the conversation and scooped green beans on my dish, then did the same for her.
“I figure with the time I save not cooking, I can stay at work longer, so it evens outs.” I tapped my temple. “Guy math.”
That made her burst out laughing. God, I loved that sound and was willing to do whatever it took to hear it as often as I could.
Well, except give her the one thing she wanted most.
A baby.
But that wasn’t something I was going to worry about tonight.