of rearranging I’d done during the move-in. At the centerpiece of the table stood a small potted cactus sticking straight up. I’d found it set out on the back steps with a few other sad-looking potted plants. But this fellow had special meaning, so I’d brought him inside. I’d never pass up a chance to torment Lucas, to be honest.
The cactus’ pot still had a Christmas ribbon tied around it. The fact that Lucas had received this little guy in a white elephant gift exchange last Christmas was entirely my doing. Now he had his very own “pet cactus.” I’d teased him mercilessly about his phallic-looking new succulent sidekick. In fact, I’d even given him a name, much to Lucas’s chagrin.
We’d had no idea, during that short cabin stay with a few work friends, that we’d end up legally married a month later. Who could have ever predicted such a crazy future?
Lucas eyed the plant but didn’t seem too surprised to see it there. “Ah, I see you located it.”
“You’ve been neglecting poor Cocky the Cocktus.” I threw him a cheesy grin. “Can’t have that! Cocky is your best bud.”
He eyed me. “If you hadn’t just made me dinner, I might be tempted to plant Cocky in your bed sheets for a nice prickly surprise.”
“Don’t even think about it, Jedi Boy. Now eat up.”
He sniffed at his plate. “It smells amazing. You didn’t poison it, did you?”
I only arched my brows mysteriously at him. He dug in and then sat back, clearly stunned. “I guess I’m not the only one with surprising talents.”
I started laughing so hard I almost choked on my eggs. “It’s only a frittata. They’re super easy, as you saw.”
He started forking in bites as fast as he could sustain the pace, talking in between swallows. “Your special talent is way more practical than mine is.” He waited a beat while I looked up, then waggled his brows. “Oh and the cooking’s really good, too.”
I flashed him a cheeky smile. “Too bad you’ll never get to witness the other talent firsthand.” Or would he?
Damn… I had to stop thinking about how hot it was that he played the piano. How together his home life seemed to be compared to mine. How he was just a little older than me and yet so much better at adulting than I was.
I had to stop thinking about him as sexy. And a good kisser. With elegant, long-fingered hands that could move their way across any keyboard the way I wanted him to move them across my body, over my bare skin.
On top of all that, he was also an accomplished gamer, as well, as evidenced by his ever-present name near the top of our department’s leaderboard. So he was sexy, accomplished, an actual man who could adult semi-decently and on top of that, he was just as nerdy as I was.
Damn. Time to get my mind out of the gutter and back to reality. This was a sexless marriage, as we’d both agreed it would be—and would remain. The circumstances of us both being forced to live under the same roof together notwithstanding.
“How’d you learn to cook so well?”
I grinned. “The Food Network. I had to cook often. My parents were gone a lot in the evenings and I got sick of freezer food and leftovers.”
He nodded. “I suppose it will be useful to have these odd bits of knowledge of each other for the interview. Just in case.”
“Are you nervous? About the interview?”
He shook his head. “I’ve done some research. I don’t think the questions are that hard. This first interview is very broad and general. Those questions like what kind of face cream you use are the stuff they talk about in the movies. I think we’ll do fine. We know each other well enough and our relationship is documented.”
I, however, was starting to feel dings in my confidence about this same interview. I was learning all kinds of new stuff about him after mere hours in his house. What if there’d been something we’d missed? I’d thought I knew him well before this. Hell, we’d been married for six months now. But I was only just now finding out new things.
“Besides,” he continued. “Now that we have to go meet my parents tomorrow night, that interview is going to be nothing in comparison.”
My fork clattered loudly against my plate as I dropped it. “When were you planning on telling me this?”