nearly three, and she’ll wake if you even breathe in her direction.”
Amelia looks up horrified. “Are you serious?” she gasps. “I wouldn’t be able to survive with that. If my girls did that to me, I’d probably die.”
“Why’s that?” I murmur, watching her pull the dish out of the microwave and check that it’s warm the whole way through. “You’re a fan of sleep?”
“Well, yeah, but apart from that, I walk around this place like an elephant,” she explains. “I think they’ve had to adjust to my noise, otherwise, they’d never get any sleep.”
“Oh, come on,” I laugh as she grabs and fork and stabs it into the bowl before walking around to the dining table and placing it down. “It couldn’t be that bad.”
“Really,” she laughs, waltzing straight back into the kitchen. “I wish I was exaggerating.”
I take a seat at the table and instantly dig in. She wasn’t wrong, she definitely burnt it, yet I find myself annihilating it, forkful after forkful. I’m not usually one to enjoy a burnt dinner, but right now, this is going down pretty well. “Not bad,” I tell her as she dives through her freezer and pulls out a tub of ice cream.
“You’re kidding me, right?” she scoffs as she grabs a spoon, clearly thinking I’m fucking with her as she raises a curious brow. She must think I’m a fucking moron enjoying her burnt spaghetti.
I watch as she pulls herself up on the counter and crosses her legs before peeling open the tub of ice cream. “Not at all,” I tell her. “The crispiness really adds a little texture. Something I’m not quite used to when it comes to spaghetti.”
She grins up at me, and suspicion fills her features. She doesn’t know if I’m being serious or if I’m fucking with her. Either way, I’m not about to explain it. She chooses to ignore me and scoops out some ice cream before devouring it.
Her eyes close as the deliciousness hits her taste buds, and I find myself in a trance, unable to look away. I don't think she realizes how damn sexy she is. In fact, I'm sure she has no idea what her little show is doing to me. I could be sitting with a stripper dancing on my lap and not get this fucking hot. She’s just that good. Who would have known that watching a chick eat ice cream from the tub was going to be my undoing? That cold spoon dipping in and out of her mouth, her tongue trailing over the silver metal, making me wish it was something else she was working that hard on.
I look down at my burnt spaghetti and concentrate on the sound of the chainsaw coming from the living room before I throw myself at her and freak her out.
Before I know it, the bowl is empty, and I realize that I must have been hungrier than I thought. It was a big fucking day, and I hardly got a chance to eat lunch. So, despite the fact that it was burnt, it was more than welcome. Had I gone home, I would have gone straight to bed and not eaten until the morning.
I sit back in my chair, and we fall into easy conversation that comes as natural as waking up in the morning. I don’t know what it is about her, but I don’t even need to try.
Realizing time has flown by and it’s just about midnight, I get up and walk into the kitchen. She has two babies to care for tomorrow, and I’m sure having some guy in her home in the middle of the night probably isn’t ideal. I had no intention to barge in on her evening. All I wanted was to fix her railing and leave, but the second she invited me in, I couldn’t say no.
I smile to myself as she spins around on the counter to keep an eye on me. “Oh, no. You don’t need to do that,” she argues as I go to wash up my dish. “I can do it. You’ve already done so much for me.”
I scoff at her efforts to try and get me to stop and get on with my task. I search under the sink for the dishwashing liquid and smirk to myself when I find it. Bingo.
“You know, you really didn’t have to fix the railing,” she tells me as I get busy.
I look over at her, watching me with those big blue eyes.