across the expanse of the linoleum floor as I make my way over to the fridge. Flinging the door open, I shake my hips to another popular hit when the sour cream tumbles to the floor. “Crap,” I curse aloud but sigh when I manage to catch the Tupperware of freshly shredded cheese before it meets the same fate. Glancing down, I heave a sigh of relief when I see there’s not a gooey white mess to clean up. “At least I didn’t manage to screw up snacks.”
I’m so caught up in the music, I never heard the knock on the door, so I scream when I hear Jennings answer, “I think for another performance like that, it would have been worth it.”
“Jesus, Jennings.” I quickly turn to drop everything in my arms onto the counter before catching my breath. I call out to the speaker to lower the volume. “I thought I was alone.” My cheeks are stained in embarrassment. Reaching for a towel, I wipe the chili splatters in earnest.
Before he can say anything, Kevin bounds into the kitchen. “Mom, how much longer until food? I’m starving.” he says, accompanied by a pathetic look of a puppy deprived of a treat.
“It will go faster if you ask your father how hot he likes his nachos and if there is anything he doesn’t like on them,” I inform him sweetly.
“Jennings…”
“I’ll eat everything you have on the counter with the exception of raw onions. As for the heat—” There’s a slight pause. “—I prefer things hot.”
“You and Mom,” Kevin says in disgust. “I don’t know how you do it. I’ll go get the first movie ready.”
Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I assemble the nachos and gooey cheesy sauce, liberally applying topping in between the layers. After laying on a sprinkle of shredded cheddar and cojito cheese, I take the tray in my arms and move over to the wall oven to slip the nachos in to broil. Before I can struggle balancing the pan and the door, Jennings is there, ready to assist.
Don’t get used to it, the little voice inside of me silently warns. “Thanks.” Closing the door, I wipe a hand across my brow. “I lost track of time,” I admit.
His lips curve, causing his dimple to appear. “Would that be because you were too busy making what may be enough nachos to feed a family of twelve or because of the dancing.”
I flush hotly.
“And singing,” he says as he steps closer into my space, making my heart beat faster. I can smell the warm, woodsy cologne he put on, and I tremble inside.
Damn him, I’m not going to fall for those thick lashes that surround crystal-clear eyes. I refuse to be stripped of all my sensible reasons why becoming involved with John Jennings is a bad idea. The problem is the pull between us is stronger than ever. I’m so damn attracted to him, it’s next to impossible to be this close to him and not feel the magnetism radiating off him.
Stepping back, I move over to the counter and pull out a chef’s knife and a head of lettuce to get rid of the tension so I can hold a conversation with some semblance of calm. I don’t want to feel this way with Jennings; I just can’t prevent it.
Tension descends on the kitchen. I’d say Jennings feels it too, when he approaches me warily. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re attacking that lettuce like you’d prefer it to be my head. How could I have done something since I last saw you?”
The problem is, it’s not anything he’s done, per se. It’s my anxiety flaring. There’s shared moments between us as we show Kevin we don’t hold animosity toward one another where I remember all the fun and the good times we shared, then…wham! Something reminds me of my fear. He’s been gracious, accepting, and understanding. I have to figure out how to fully trust Jennings because every day I see the bonds between him and Kevin growing. I just don’t know how to deal with them. I continue to chop my frustration out on the lettuce despite how my body yearns to lean forward and make him crazy with all the ways I know I could.
Jennings must decide with Kevin nearby he’s smarter to leave confrontation alone, instead commenting, “I’ve rarely seen someone with knife skills that good unless they were trained.”