E is for Everett (Men of Alphabet Mountain) - Page 52

“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

We hung up and I stared at the phone for a minute. There had a been a bunch of things I wanted to say to him, mostly about how we needed to set some sort of boundaries about what we were and, in doing so, establish how often we should check in. I wasn’t terribly good with relationships, but I could hold to a schedule.

But none of that came out. I just stammered and agreed to go over and presumably cook him dinner. It was the reason I said six. I figured I’d get out at six, drop by the house, change quickly, and head over with my apron still in my Jeep. That way, I wouldn’t dirty up two of them.

I went back to work, and as the day got closer to ending for me, I began getting antsy. I wanted to go home, shower, and primp before I went to his place. I had spent so long being a chef that I forgot how exciting it was to girl it up. I wanted to capitalize on that feeling.

Thankfully, Finn came in at four and was more than capable. I clocked out early and headed to the house, texting Everett that I should be there at six thirty. It gave me extra time, which I used to shower, shave literally everything, and stare blankly at eight outfits on my bed, trying to figure out which one was the right amount of sexy and cute along with being appropriate for going to cook dinner in.

Eventually, I chose the jean skirt and billowy yellow blouse combo. It was a little redneck-y, but hey, this was Tennessee, and I was born and bred there. You could take the girl out of the South, but not the South out of the girl, after all. Besides, the blouse showed off the tattoos, and I got a feeling he liked those a lot.

I drove over and parked at exactly six thirty. Everett met me at the door. He was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt, like he had dressed up for the occasion, and I suddenly felt a little underdressed. The way his eyes roamed over me before he planted a kiss to my lips let me know he wasn’t disappointed.

As I stepped into the living room, the smell hit me. Something fantastic had been cooked there recently. But Everett said he couldn’t cook.

My eyes trailed down to the dining-room table, where two candles were lit, a salad bowl was filled with gorgeous greens, and plates sat at each place with what looked like a perfectly seared filet mignon.

“What in the world?” I asked.

“I know, I know.” He laughed. “So, I told you I can’t cook, and that’s true. But I can follow directions. Before he left, Harry told me about the one thing he was able to cook, which was steak. He was a master at cooking steak. So, he says at least.”

“It looks perfect. Smells perfect too,” I said, my breath catching in my throat. I guessed I wouldn’t be needing the apron in my purse.

“Well, we’ll see.” He laughed. “He walked me through it this morning and then again on the phone when he landed in Miami. I wanted to spoil you a little bit, and this was the best I could do. Outside of just going to buy tacos and pretending I made them.”

I turned to him, and our eyes met. I could feel tears forming in the corners and I reached up to grab him by the collar and pull him down into a deep kiss. The kitchen towel that had been draped over his shoulder fell onto mine, and when we broke our embrace, he gently took it from me.

“You won’t need this,” he said. “Not tonight.”

Holding the chair out for me, he scooted it in after I sat and then sat across from me. We chatted lightly as we ate, but I couldn’t deny the tension in the air. Dinner was delicious, but I had dessert on my mind the entire time. As soon as I finished my last bite of steak, I stood up, walked over to him, and kissed his lips.

He grinned at me as I broke away from him, and then with a devilish smile of my own, I turned my back on him and began walking toward his bedroom. As I did, I pulled off my blouse and tossed it aside. As soon as I crossed into the bedroom, I removed the bra and held it out the door into the hallway where he could see. I let it drop to the floor.

Then the chair made a sound like it was being scooted back very quickly.

I giggled and hopped onto the bed.

Our clothes were shed as fast as we could get them off, tearing at them with an animal intensity that somehow coincided with laughter. Being with Everett was sexy and hot, but it was also fun. Laughter was an essential part of the process, and it was incredibly freeing.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Erotic
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