Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,36
they’ll know that something is up. “What about if I cook?”
He hangs his head. “Dear God, yes. I will do whatever you need to help but I’m such a cliché. The bachelor who’s an awful cook.”
I roll away from him and grab my clothes. “Then I can’t very well let you starve.”
12
Casey
The sight of Carley in my kitchen is something I don’t know how to process. It’s…everything.
She’s wearing my mother’s apron, and it looks like it was made for her. I thought it might bother me to see someone else wearing it, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels right.
I put music on in the background, and Carley is swaying her hips along with the music and singing when she knows the words. I’ve cracked open a beer and she has one too. I’m just leaning against the counter watching her, and it’s filling my heart.
Not in a sexual way, this is deeper. This moment feels far more meaningful than just us acting out our lust with each other. It’s perfect.
I feel like I’m catching a glimpse of what could be our future, if we wanted it. But I don’t know what Carley would think about that. It hasn’t been long since she left her prick of a fiancé. I don’t think it’s too soon. Will she?
When we walked into the house, she made herself right at home in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and pans like she owned the place. That made me smile. Carley is welcome to make herself at home in my house and my life however she wants to.
She turns around and looks at me. “You’re staring.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You should be chopping the carrots and not staring at my ass.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Who says I was staring at your ass?”
“Were you?”
I chuckle and take a sip of my beer. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“Thought so.” She cocks her hip and turns so that I get another view of that glorious ass. I love it. I would have my hands on it right now if she weren’t in the middle of cooking. “Now chop the carrots.”
Her eyes fall on the little bit of work that I’ve done, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. Never mind. What the hell have you down to these things?”
“They had it coming,” I mutter as she takes the knife away from me.
“It’s amazing that you haven’t starved to death,” she says, laughing and making quick work of the carrots.
I shake my head. “I get by.” Mostly due to the kindness of others. My fridge and freezer are stocked with casseroles and lasagnas as favors for handy work or the wood deliveries. I could cook very basic chicken and pasta, and when all that fails, I’m not above eating a frozen dinner or two. Or ten.
“You know, I heard a rumor in the gossip mill about you this morning.”
“Oh?” I take another sip of my beer and grin. “What did the grand people of Elgin say about me today?”
“They said that you were taking Megan Gingham to the fireworks.”
She’s not looking at me when she says it, and her tone is light. Like she doesn’t care. But I call bullshit. She does care, and this is her way of asking. “In a very literal way, yes, I am,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I buy the cow feed from her grandfather. He asked me if I could give him a ride to the fireworks along with Megan. He probably hopes something will happen, but I’m just giving them a ride. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders drop in relief.
I smirk and catch her eye. “Are you taking anyone to the fireworks?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of thought about asking this one guy, but I don’t know if he’ll say yes.”
“Whoever it is, he’s a lucky man, and he damn well better agree.”
Carley scoops up the carrots and dumps them into the pan with the chicken that she’s cooking. “Well?”
Stepping up behind her, I catch her around the waist and press my lips to her neck. “If you were planning on going with anyone else, I can’t say that I wouldn’t be jealous. And I would be very happy to take you to the fireworks.”
“Good.”
I step back from her and she reaches for more vegetables to chop. “Here, let me help you.”
“Ah, no.” She’s grinning as she pushes me away. “Get out of my kitchen.” Carley goes stock still at her words. “I mean, it’s your kitchen but I’m in charge right now. You know what