Page 152 of Back in the Saddle

“We also provide security, so the surveillance room is operational twenty-four-seven to keep an eye on client properties. But we have cases where we need to install cameras to keep an eye on other things.”

“Your job is so rad,” I muttered to the mushrooms.

I felt warmth coming from him at my comment, but he didn’t reply to it.

“Want me to grate the cheese?” he asked. “Or is that a skill you want some practice with?”

Grating cheese did not sound like something I had a desperate desire to do at that moment (though I’d want practice at a later date).

However, what I did have a desperate desire to do was feed my man, so I told him, “You can do that.”

He shot me a smile, then he got on the cheese.

We cooked the rest of the meal together in that comfortable silence we shared during our No-Fucks-to-Giving.

And as we did, I enjoyed not only having this synchronicity with Eric, but also having this time of normal where it wasn’t about Jeff or my head being up my ass or anything. It was just about winding down from the day, being normal and getting chill.

I peeked at the icebox cake in an effort to curtail my need to shove my entire face in the bowl of fettucine (it smelled so good!) before we sat down on the stools at my kitchen bar after we dished up.

Eric had cut the fresh loaf of bread I’d bought to add carbs to our heaping bowl of carbs, as well as put butter out on a plate that he’d nuked for ten seconds to soften it.

He went for that.

I swirled my fork in the fettucine and shoved a huge bite into my mouth, a part of my anatomy I’d positioned to hovering over the bowl (God, so good!) when he said softly, “Thanks for asking about my day.”

Face still hovering over my bowl, mouth munching the simple but rich and decadent pasta, I turned to him.

His eyes were on me, and his teeth were sliding into a piece of buttered bread.

First, how he could go for the bread before the pasta would forever remain a mystery.

Second, I couldn’t wait for those teeth to bite into me.

I had to concentrate on those thoughts, because last, I was getting the impression from what he said that his ex didn’t bother to pull herself out of the world she thought revolved around her to ask after what was happening in her husband’s world.

Of course, according to Eric, she was never home to do so. But it would seem, even if she was, she didn’t.

And that pissed me off.

Therefore, it was angrily I finished munching. Still angrily, I swallowed.

And yes,stillangrily, I asked, “Let me guess. Savannah didn’t have a lot of interest in how your day went.”

Eric shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about her, sweetheart. But I do want you to know that I appreciate us having a quiet night and all the conversation isn’t about what’s happening with you. I’ll grant, what’s going on with you is a lot. So it means something to me you can find your way out of it to think about me.”

Translation: No. The bitch didn’t bother to pull herself out of her world to see to the man she’d vowed to share that world with.

I forked (mm-hmm, still angrily) into a mushroom and shoved it in my mouth.

Eric chuckled.

I turned to glare at him.

His chuckle became a laugh.

I reached for some bread and the butter, and one could say my swipes on the unoffending bread were somewhat violent.

“There’s something to be said about not having it all that great, then finding something great, so you know to appreciate it. Yeah?” Eric asked.

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