He follows me, close enough that I can feel his presence right behind me. I forgot how large and warm he is. But more importantly, how nice he felt against me. A tingling sensation starts to spread through my body. It’s making me a little gooey, reminding me of how amazing the sex was…
Okay, need to stop. It’ll look ridiculous if I get all panting and horny just because he’s walking close behind me.
We arrive in the kitchen, and I put some distance between us. “Okay, there’s the fridge. Take out whatever veggies you think should go into a salad. I’m going to get that pie started.”
He opens the door and stares inside, bending at the waist a little.
God, that’s some prime ass. My fingers itch with the desire to grab it again, like I did that night…
“Want me to pull out some peaches for you?” he asks, dragging me out of my trance.
“No, thanks.” I clear my throat, praying the action also clears my mind of useless lust. “But you can hand me the iced tea, if you don’t mind.”
He doesn’t. I pour myself a glass of sweet tea, then realize I haven’t offered him anything to drink since he got here. Feeling like a terrible hostess, I say, “You want some?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He then takes out two heads of romaine, along with some celery and carrots. He picks up a cauliflower, then puts it back.
“I think that’s plenty,” he says, glancing at the vegetables he’s set out on the counter. “Unless you want to get fancy?”
“No, that should be fine. Grandma is going to have Sylvie make coleslaw.” And they won’t touch a bite of the salad I make, so I’ll just bring it right back home. I honestly can’t imagine why they want me to bring one, other than to create unnecessary work for me.
“Sylvie?” he says, taking the tea from me.
“My cousin. She’s going to be there.” I start to add a warning about what a skank she can be, but don’t. He’s probably seen it all. Max told me some stories that make me feel just a tad sorry for Dev, being treated like a piece of meat by his fans. Or a living sex toy.
Devlin sips the tea. “Holy shit. Did you add enough water to this syrup?”
Did I overdo the sugar? I taste it, but nope. It’s as refreshing as usual. “It’s just sweetened tea. Quite good, too. My secret formula. Not even Sylvie knows it.” She wants it, but I’m not telling her. It’s all about the ratio of sugar, tea and lemon. Plus how long you steep it.
“Maybe it’ll be better with something else. Like vodka.”
“I have a few bottles in that liquor cabinet over there.” Tasha got them for me as a late birthday present last year because she felt bad about forgetting. But she was swamped, so it’s all good in my book. I’d forget everyone’s birthdays too, if it weren’t for the calendar reminder on my phone. I wonder how people functioned before smartphones.
Then I wonder if it’s wrong to want to make a video of Devlin walking around in my living room, so I can admire it forever. Smartphones come with cameras for a reason.
He goes over and splashes his tea with a bit of vodka. “Mmm,” he says after a taste. “Much better.”
I don’t want to give in to my inappropriate impulses or blurt out something I shouldn’t, so I take out some canned peaches and a pre-made pie crust.
Devlin looks at them. “You don’t make those from scratch?”
“Are you kidding? Me? Bake from scratch? Ha!”
“Sorry. I thought that’s what people did in small Southern towns.”
“That’s a stereotype. Besides, even if it was true, I wouldn’t spend the time. Nobody would appreciate it.”
“How do you know?”
I open the cans and drain the peaches of syrup. “Well, the fact is, I did use to make everything from scratch. Wor
ked hard to perfect my recipes.”
I wanted to please my grandmother. Earn her approval. But she never complimented my desserts. Always said it could use more of this or that.
“Then this one time, I just couldn’t do it—too rushed—so I used canned fruit.” I was so nervous taking it over to Grandma’s. I thought she’d know just from the way it smelled that I hadn’t used fresh fruit. My stomach knotted, and I felt nauseated the entire dinner. “And you know what? She didn’t know the difference. She didn’t care as long as it was sweet and fruity.”