Page 33 of Pretty Poison
Asher placed his hands on his lean hips, squaring off against Rocky like an outlaw. “I might accept that as reasonable logic if your other kitchen storage decisions followed the same path. Your kitchen layout is a mess.”
It absolutely was. Rocky had never cared about where things went in a kitchen, only that they were put away. He hated clutter more than he loathed cooking. There were exceptions to his ridiculousness, and he had every intention of pointing them out until Asher held up his index finger.
“I’m going to need coffee for this.”
“Fine. Allow me to demonstrate my first point,” Rocky said as he crossed the room. He opened the cupboard door above the coffee pot and pulled down two travel mugs. “Coffee mugs near the coffee pot.” Then he pulled open the drawer directly below his magic bean machine. “Spoons below it.”
Asher chuckled. “Show me your next trick.”
“You’re in no way prepared for it,” Rocky teased.
“True,” Asher agreed. “I’d be more impressed if the cupboard that held your cups and plates and your silverware drawer weren’t on the opposite side of the room from the dishwasher.”
Rocky scoffed. “As if I use that thing to wash dishes. I wouldn’t waste the electricity or water on the few cups and plates I use a week.”
Asher scrubbed his hand over his mouth like he was trying to erase his smile, but it still lingered on his husband’s lips. “I’m afraid to ask what you wash in the dishwasher if not dishes.”
Rocky let loose an evil laugh as he applied the right amount of cream and sugar to both mugs. For someone who bitched about Rocky consuming too much sugar at breakfast, his husband sure swallowed his fair share in the form of coffee.
Asher looked at the dishwasher, then back at Rocky. He took a few steps and opened the appliance, revealing a stack of random Tupperware pieces and their lids. His husband closed the door and howled with laughter. Rocky flipped him off, even though he couldn’t be mad. He’d had as much use for the containers as he did the appliance Rocky stored them in.
“I expected dildos,” Asher said once he caught his breath.
“Dildos?” Rocky asked.
Asher shrugged. “I recently saw it in a rerun ofCSI.”
“And you somehow equated that with me?” Rocky wasn’t sure if he found the thought horrifying or humorous.
“You were the one who asked me to get out the handcuffs within seconds of running into one another,” Asher pointed out. “Not to mention your new underwear choices.”
“Orange underwear isn’t a kink.” Not that Rocky knew of, anyway.
“The shade of blue you’re wearing today is pretty,” Asher said, saluting Rocky’s crotch with his coffee mug before taking a sip. Rocky had forgotten all about his state of undress until Asher had literally pointed it out. Not that his husband seemed to mind since he just continued talking. “Then there are all the guys Cal mentioned.”
“Oh my God. There have been no guys here other than my friends.”
Rocky could see the question in his husband’s gaze. He was willing to accept Rocky hadn’t brought men into his home, but had Rocky parked his boots under someone else’s bed? It wasn’t like Asher not to ask, which meant the answer scared him. A part of Rocky said this was his moment to drive home the point that they’d been living apart for over a year and remind Asher of their impending divorce. With just a few words or even a silent gesture, he could nail the coffin closed on their time together.
Rocky couldn’t force himself to lie. “There’s been no one. Not here or anywhere.” He’d flirted and danced with the idea of trying to find someone to chase Asher from his mind, but no one would do. He only wanted Asher.
“For me either.”
Asher’s confession sucked the air out of the room. Rocky hadn’t asked because he hadn’t wanted to know and now didn’t want to think why he suddenly felt dizzy with relief. The subsequent reaction occurred much lower, reminding Rocky that he’d been parading around in his underwear this entire time. No wonder Mrs. Baylor was miffed.
Gesturing to his bare torso, he said, “The kitchen probably isn’t the best place to be wandering around in your underwear.”
Rocky could tell Asher had much more to say, but he bit his bottom lip and nodded instead. Rocky slipped off to his bedroom and pulled on the same T-shirt and shorts he’d worn the previous night. When he returned to the kitchen, Asher had lined up the onions, peppers, and mushrooms in a neat row. Rocky pulled the cutting board and a knife from a drawer and set them on the countertop. While Asher started chopping vegetables, Rocky retrieved the olive oil, spatula, and skillet. They moved like they always had, a well-choreographed dance of give and take. The only difference was that Rocky had to suppress the urge to slip his arms around Asher’s waist and place kisses between his husband’s shoulder blades.
Rocky suspected Asher would accept the gestures, even welcome them, but it would be a big mistake. He couldn’t let Asher’s proximity lull him into a false sense of security or normalcy. This arrangement was temporary, but the repercussions for lowering his shields would be everlasting. So he shook off his melancholy and focused on making small talk about the weather while assisting Asher with breakfast.
“Who the hell bought you food storage containers? Don’t they know the takeout ones you get from restaurants will suffice?”
“Most of it belonged to Queen Bea, and the rest was given to me as housewarming gifts.”
Asher’s face softened. “How is your nana?”
“Ornery as ever. That’s who called this morning and woke us up.”