They had the intimacy, the connection. And now it was time to bring it to a different level. A level where she’d get to see that bare chest again.
Slowly, she sliced the shallots. Using her shoulder, she pushed the hair from her eyes. “Too bad we have to eat,” she said shyly.
He stepped close to sweep his hand along her neck, smoothing the hair from her face. “A man needs his strength. ”
He repositioned himself behind her, until his body touched hers. The contact was light along her back, but she experienced it like a sizzling in her blood. His closeness weakened her knees, and she leaned on the counter for support.
His arm grazed hers as he reached over her to grab a couple of tomatoes. “Can I chop these for you?”
At that moment, she could think of a hundred things she wanted him to do. Chopping was at the bottom of that list. But instead she said, “Yes, please. ”
Billy made quick work of the tomatoes, and seeing there was no obvious job for him to do, he leaned against the counter, bringing all his attention to bear on her. “I still can’t believe you’re here. What did I do to deserve this?”
“I like cooking for you. ” She was rubbing her herb mixture into the lamb, but spared a glance up and caught his eyes raking over her shirt. His gaze was heavy, and a bolt
of desire speared her through.
“I was about to say I couldn’t think of anything better than your cooking. But,” he said, in a voice thick with innuendo, “I think I could. ”
His banter was sexy, and it made her feel sexy. “Food first,” she chided.
“You’re lucky I’m so famished,” he told her in a rasp, “or I wouldn’t let you finish. ”
She put the lamb in the broiler and washed her hands. “Just a few more minutes now. ”
He walked up behind her and ran his hands down her arms, threading her damp fingers with his. “I’m going to take more than a few minutes. ”
Her breath caught.
The aroma of roasting lamb filled the room, and he breathed it in, exhaling with a satisfied moan that reverberated through her body. “How did they spare you at the tavern? Your father’s a fool not to let you cook every night. ”
She loved his focus on her, loved the feeling of being seen and understood. And she loved that—with the possible exception of her sister—nobody had any idea where she was. “They don’t even know where I am,” she said. In some ways, she had no idea where she was—she felt like she was spinning out of control, falling fast.
“Their loss, my gain,” he said. “Your dad is lucky you don’t leave the tavern and get a professional chef’s job. ”
She shrugged. “Nah. ”
“Nah,” he mimicked affectionately and turned her to face him. “What do you mean, nah?”
She thought of the lodge, the tavern, her parents…all the responsibilities that tethered her in place. “My time has passed. ”
He traced her brow to sweep her hair behind one ear, his gesture softening the expression of wry humor on his face. “What on earth do you mean, your time has passed?”
“You know. ” She crumpled her face into a half smile. “It’s too late for me to do anything new like that. ”
His face became dead serious. “You’re young, and you can do whatever you set your mind to. ”
“I’m stuck. ” She paused, expecting him to speak, but he waited as though he were hanging on her every word, and so she continued, “Think about it. How am I supposed to follow any dreams from here? Laura and BJ were the ones who got free of this place. They left me to run it all by myself. ” Though abandoned would’ve been a better word for it.
The timer sounded, and putting on the oven mitt, he pulled the pan out himself. “You’re cooking one night a week at the tavern—that’s a start. We’ll convince your dad to up it to two, then three. ”
She molded aluminum foil into a tent over the lamb. “That’s all well and good, but then who’ll do my job?”
“Around the lodge? Get Laura to help. ”
“Yeah, right. ” She smirked. Even if she could get over her resentments, she still hadn’t gotten past the fact that her sister’s attempts at “help” felt like an intrusion. Around the lodge, planning the festival—it was like Laura had something to prove. That she had more experience, that she knew better. That she was smarter, older, superior.
“I’m being serious,” he said. “You need to ask people for help. You need to make people help. ” He popped a prosciutto-wrapped melon ball into his mouth, sighing with pleasure. “Hell, I’ll help, if it gives you time to come up with more food like this. ”