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Darko—

“I want to see my grandson. Thought I’d come over for the weekend.” My phone is pressed to my ear. I’m out in the garage, working on my bike, sitting on an overturned bucket.

“Uh, that may be a problem,” I say, tightening a bolt, then tossing the wrench aside.

“Oh? And why is that?” my mother asks.

“I gave Eli your room, and I’ve got someone staying in the third bedroom now.” I wipe my hands on a rag and stand.

“And who would that be? Tell me you didn’t move in one of those damn prospects again.”

“No, Ma. This time it’s a woman.”

“A woman? Really? And with your son there?”

“It’s not like that. She works for me. We’re just friends. She lost her husband about a year ago, and they foreclosed on her house. She needed a place to stay, and she’s a great cook, so I asked her if she wanted to trade room and board for cooking dinner for Eli and me each night.”

“Dinner, huh?” My mother sounds skeptical. “She a good cook?”

“She is.” I toss the dirty rag on my workbench.

“Well, I want to see my grandson, so how we gonna work this out? You gonna put me in some motel?”

“No, Ma.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “You can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the couch. But maybe not this weekend. Lizzie is just getting settled.”

“Fine. Then I’m coming next weekend. That gonna be okay with you, son?”

I grin at the tone of her voice. It’s the one she gets when there is only one answer she wants to hear.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All right. I’ll see you next week.”

I disconnect, shove my phone in my pocket, then amble inside. The sound of humming carries to me, and I lean against the doorframe.

Lizzie is at the stove, her back to me, tending to something in a pot, and humming along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio that sits above the fridge.

Whatever she’s cooking smells delicious.

My eyes trail over her cute ass in the jeans she wears, and I feel myself get hard. Thoughts of bending her over the table fill my head, and I swallow. I must make a sound, because Lizzie glances over her shoulder and smiles.

“Oh, hey. Come here and taste this.”

Pushing off the doorframe, I amble over, and she holds a wooden spoon to my mouth, cupping her other hand under it to catch any drips.

Our eyes lock as I taste it.

“It’s my mother’s recipe for chicken soup. Do you like it?”

“It’s delicious.”

She grins proudly. “Good. I’m making biscuits to go with it for dinner.”

“Sounds great.”

“When’s Eli getting home?”

“He’s with a couple of teammates at one of their houses, shooting hoops. Said he’d be home by seven.”

“Oh.” She looks at the clock. “The biscuits will be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“We don’t have to wait on him. He can eat when he gets home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to wait another hour. Let’s eat whenever it's ready.”

“All right.”

I move to the sink and squirt some dish soap into my palm and wash my greasy hands. I’m drying them with a dishtowel when Lizzie opens a cupboard and takes out a small cereal bowl, studying it.

“We’ve got bigger ones on the top shelf. Here, let me get them.” I reach over her, my body pressing close, and grab two. The press of my chest to her sends a zing of electricity through me.

My voice turns rough and gravely. “Here you go.”

Lizzie backs away and licks her lips. Her voice comes out in a breathless whisper. “Thanks.”

The sound of it has my dick growing hard.

“Ahem.” I clear my throat, trying to get my head out of the gutter it just happily crawled into, but my eyes travel over her sexy body. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and set the bowls next to the stove. “We can just dish up in here. Yeah?”

“Sure.” She grabs a potholder.

My eyes stray back to her face. Her cheeks flush pink and I can’t tell if it’s the heat from cooking or if she, too, feels an entirely different kind of heat when she’s near me.

“I, um, need to get the biscuits.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” I step out of her way, and she takes the pan out and sets it on top of the empty burners.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a basket for them, would you?”

“Maybe. I think Ma left one here once.” I open the cupboard above the stove and find one. “Here. This work?”

“Perfect.” She lays a clean dishtowel in it, then pops biscuits into the basket.

I grab us some large soup spoons and pass her one. “After you.”

She ladles herself a helping. Then I fix mine, and we sit at the kitchen table.

It feels intimate with just the two of us sharing a meal, and no Eli between us like a buffer.

I take a spoonful. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?”

“Yes.”

“She must be a good cook, too.”

“She is, though we didn’t have much money. She raised me as a single mother. My father left when I was young. We didn’t have money for fast food and such, so she learned to make delicious meals with what she could afford at the grocery store.” She stirs her soup and meets my eyes. “How about you? Is your mother a good cook?”

“She has a few specialties. Pot roast, roast chicken, beef stew. Ma makes a fantastic beef stew.”

“Does she? She’ll have to give me the recipe.”

“I’m sure she’d love to meet you. She wants to come see Eli next weekend. Maybe she can show you how she makes it.”

“I’d like that.” She takes another spoon of soup. “Are you close with your mother?”

“I suppose so. I’m her only son, and with my father gone, I’ve been doing what I can to take care of her. She’s up in Silverton. I’ve been trying to get her to move down here. It’d be easier if she wasn’t so far away. I’m hoping with Eli here, she’ll finally make the move.”

“That would be nice for them to get to know each other.” Lizzie tilts her head. “Do you think Eli will stay when the six months are over?”

“You know about that?”

“Kate told me that was the agreement.”

“I’m hoping so.”

“Will you let him go if he decides he wants to return to Nebraska?”

I stare at my bowl and move my spoon around. “It’ll be hard, but yeah, I’ll have to let him go. That was the deal I agreed to.”

“Deals can change.”

I meet her penetrating gaze. “Yeah, I suppose they can.”

She picks up her spoon and smiles. “Maybe the cheerleader will keep him here.”

I answer her smile with my own. “Women have that effect on us men.”

Our eyes hold, until she finally breaks and stirs her soup.

“This situation working out for you, Lizzie?”

She nods. “It feels good to have someone to cook for again.”

“I’m glad. I heard you humming earlier. You seemed happy.”

“I’m always happy when I’m cooking.”

“What else makes you happy, Lizzie?

“I’ve been trying to figure that out. I feel like I’m becoming a different person than I was before. I’m sure it sounds crazy.”

“Don’t say that. How you feel is not crazy. It’s perfectly valid. You’ve been through something most people have not at your age.”

She stirs her soup. “My mother thinks I should go to a grief group, you know, like for widows. She’s been pestering me about it for months.”

“Do you think that would help?”

She shrugs. “I’d probably be the youngest person there.”

“Maybe not. Firefighters, cops… they have dangerous jobs. And when they die in the line of duty, they leave behind wives. Maybe some are your age.” I study her, and all the happiness she had making this meal for us has been sucked out of her. “Hey, want to take a ride?”

“It’s kind of cold outside for riding, isn’t it?”

“Not if we bundle up. I’ve got just the thing.” I stand and go grab my leathers and a pair of women’s chaps. I hold them out to her. “Try these on.”

She stands and holds them against her body. “Where’d you get these?”

“Borrowed ‘em from Kate. Just in case.” I shrug, grinning. “You seemed to like riding. I hoped maybe you’d give it another shot.”

“What about Eli?”

“I’ll leave him a note. He can heat his soup in the microwave. He’s not helpless. Besides, we won’t be gone long. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes, tops.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” She looks down. “How do I put these on?”

I grin. “Be glad to show you, darlin’.”

I reach my hands around her hips, pulling the belt and buckling it.

“It’s a bit loose,” she whispers.

My lids lift and my mouth is inches from hers. “It’s supposed to be a little loose, then you can adjust them more easily.” My eyes flick down to her mouth and she drags her teeth along her bottom lip, and I lose focus.

I clear my throat. “Then you slide this panel around the inside.” My hand skates along her inner thigh, wrapping the leather around.

Her breath hitches at my touch, and I can’t help the surge of desire that floods through me.

I connect the zipper and zip the leather sides together.

Then I repeat on the other leg, but this time my eyes lock with hers as I run my hand along her thigh.

Once I get them over her jeans and she adjusts the buckle across her hips, I’m cursing myself for putting myself through this torturous temptation. She looks good in the chaps. Really fucking good. Goddamn.

I shrug into my jacket and help her into my old one. “Come on, hot stuff. Let’s roll.”

We ride a loop around town and finish by rolling down Main under the twinkling Christmas lights. Then I turn for home and coast up the driveway.

When Lizzie climbs off, her face is aglow with happiness again.

Mission accomplished.