Page 50 of The Fire

Parker grinned, totally happy, totally kissable. “Yeah, I totally would.”

I shook my head as Parker winked and sashayed off to clean up the breakfast dishes. How was I here right now? What fucking confluence of events had led me to share my kitchen withParker Hoffstraeder?

Somehow, despite all the years and all the shit that had passed between us, the man was even more attractive than he’d been before, just as I’d sort of known he’d be.

It’s casual and temporary, I reminded myself as I pushed to my feet.Everything good is.

This time I was just gonna be smart enough to really enjoy it before it became another memory in the vault.

Chapter Seven

Parker

“You cheated,”I said, leaning back against the sofa and licking sauce off my finger. The sauce was spicy and sweet, tangy and delicious, and I was possibly a little bit pissed and a little bit impressed by this fact. “Your wings never tasted this good before.”

Jamie, who was sprawled next to me, shirtless and stomach-down on the living room rug, in front of a crackling fire in the fireplace that made the whole room cozy, grinned lazily. “Same recipe I’ve used for years. Besides, how could I possibly have cheated when you’ve been watching me the whole afternoon?”

“Snow’s mostly stopped,” I reminded him, leaning forward to throw the bone on the plate on the coffee table. “Maybe you ordered them in.”

“From where? And did I have them delivered by carrier pigeon? That would be wrong on so many levels.” Jamie rubbed a hand through his hair, dislodging a cloud of white dust.

I sat back again and narrowed my eyes. “You’re getting flour all over the rug.”

Jamie slowly turned his head to look up at me like a lazy, freckled housecat. “And whose fault would that be? Hmm?Speakingof cheating behavior.”

I pursed my lips. “I told you. The flour incident was an accident,” I lied. “I tripped.”

“Over nothing.” Jamie scooted closer so his head was by my knee. “While standing still.”

“Yup.”

“Really? Because you upended like three cups worth on my head. And I’m considerably taller than you.”

“Considerably,” I scoffed. “You meanbarely. Like, half a millimeter or something.”

“Like half a foot.”

“And it was a few tablespoons,” I said, ignoring him. “At most.”

“My t-shirt was covered!”

“Are you calling me a liar?” I demanded in mock outrage. “Besides, who decided to retaliate for myperfectly innocent mistakeby getting sugar all over me?”

“That was every bit as accidental, Parker!” Jamie blinked his brown eyes guilelessly. “I was just sostartledby the flour attack. Blinded, if you will. And in the ensuing confusion… casualties occurred.”

“Casualties. Is that what we call dumping a bowl of brown sugar down a man’s pants?”

“Hey, you had another pair!” Jamie pushed his lips together but couldn’t restrain his laughter. “Besides, you should thank me. People pay shit-tons of money for fancy brown sugar scrubs. You got one for free.”

“I havesugarin places wheresugarshould never be.”

“Bet you taste sweet,” Jamie said suggestively.

“You’llnever know,” I assured him, even as those places started to tingle way more from his words than they had from the sugar.

Jamie grinned and leaned up to grab another wing off the table—one from the trayIhad prepared—and sighed happily as he chewed.

“I’ll admit, your wings are also significantly better than I remembered.” He took another bite. “You’ve finally figured out the sauce-to-wing ratio.”