True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,48
he must have taken that with him.
His hat lay on the floor in the entryway. She picked it up and hung it on the coat tree he’d brought down from the attic. Looked good there, not just because it was a nice Stetson but because it belonged to Nick and it was the one he’d worn during his ride.
Dashing upstairs, she quickly freshened up and hurried back down. The gurgle of water running out on the back porch told her he hadn’t beat her to the kitchen.
She took the chili pot out of the fridge and set it on the stove to heat. Serving Nick food when he was legitimately hungry would be satisfying. His famous appetite had appealed to her even before the bachelor auction had highlighted his other attributes.
Turned out he also had an appetite for good sex. She enjoyed satisfying that hunger, too. This relationship was exactly what she was looking for—mutually beneficial with no strings attached.
Nick had been amused by her I’m never getting married announcement before they’d even kissed. But Aunt Sally had cautioned her to play fair with her lovers. Nobody deserved fair treatment more than Nick.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nick had to laugh at himself. Making love to a woman with his jeans around his knees was, as Rafe would say, not smooth. Doing it in that woman’s living room where cleanup would be a challenge and an unexpected visitor could get a show was crazy. What had he been thinking?
Nothing, that’s what. When she’d dragged him in by his belt, any blood circulating in his brain had traveled south. No woman had ever pounced on him and Eva had done it twice.
Even more miraculous, he hadn’t been sweating much the second time, at least not until hot sex had opened his pores. Very hot sex. And he’d better get off that topic or he’d never make it through a cozy meal with her.
Drying his hands on a towel draped over the laundry tub, he fastened his jeans, tucked in his shirt and buckled his belt. Next time, he was gonna slow the process down, enjoy the journey. And before he launched into the finale, he’d be naked.
The spicy aroma of chili drifted from the kitchen as he walked down the hall. Now that he’d spent most of the day here, the house was familiar, cozy, even. As he walked into the living room, he glanced around for his hat. She’d hung it on the coat tree. Looked good hanging there, better than when all the hooks were empty.
He could access the kitchen from the doorway near the entry or the pocket door that opened onto the dining room. He’d never used that one and it was closer.
The stove was on the wall separating the kitchen and dining room and she stood in front of it stirring the chili. She glanced up in surprise when he walked in.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” But he sure did want to kiss her. “This door was a more direct route.”
“Definitely if you’re coming from the back of the house. I heard your footsteps in the hall but the living room rug muffles the sound and I lost track of where you were headed. I don’t know why I expected you to come through the other door.”
“Because that’s the one I’ve always used. Whoever designed this house was smart to put in two doors. You can carry groceries in the other one and bring cooked food out through this one.”
“Want to eat in there?”
“Sure, why not? Load me up and I’ll set the table.” If he had stuff in his arms, he couldn’t put them around Eva. If she caught fire, a distinct possibility, they wouldn’t eat the chili anytime soon.
“I’d appreciate that.”
He’d lost his place in the conversation. Whatever she’d appreciate, he’d do. His stomach rumbled when he smelled warm chili. His cock twitched when he caught a whiff of warm woman. He was ready for action on both fronts. He’d take his cue from her as to which road to take.
She stopped stirring the chili, crossed to a butcher-block counter and opened one of the drawers underneath. “We’ll only need spoons for chili and forks for salad.” She handed him ornate silver utensils that had the heft of the real thing.
Okay. He was setting the table. “These are nice.”
“Miss Barton’s.”
“Did we use this silver for breakfast?” He’d been so distracted he could have missed it.
“No. Eggs tarnish silver, so I used stainless.”
“Didn’t know that about silver.” He took