Page 125 of A Better Place

“Want to know why?” She nods her head, so I go on. “Because this meal isn’t to be shared with the masses. This is your favorite, so you’re the only one I will be making it for.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” She grins, happy with my reasoning.

“You ready to be wowed by my beef and broccoli?”

“Oh yeah.”

I place the platters on the table I already set, complete with a lit candle in the center because I’m rocking the cheese factor.

“You wanna tell me what ingredients you used?” she asks.

I scrub a hand down my face, trying not to smile, but failing. “You’re such a brat.”

“You so want to tell me, don’t you?”

“No,” I lie as I place a generous helping of Asian noodles on her plate and spoon beef and broccoli over top then serve myself.

“Come on, tell… me-e-e,” she teases.

I shake my head and watch as she mixes everything together and takes a bite. Her eyes close, and I almost groan as I watch her eat the food I made just for her.

“Good?”

She covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my word, James. This is the best I’ve ever had. Ever.”

I smile at her words, more than pleased that she likes my cooking.

“What’s in it?” she asks coyly.

I roll my eyes but tell her anyway. Because I love this game.

“Well, first I cut the flank steak into strips.”

“Mm-hmm?” She rests her elbow on the table and leans toward me. “How… thick?”

“Nice and thick,” I say in a low voice and wink at her. “Next, I heated up the oil.”

She waggles her eyebrows. “Oh… oil, huh? Then did you sear the meat?”

“Oh, talk dirty to me, baby,” I growl.

She giggles as I stand up and bend toward her and kiss her on the lips. As much as I would love to continue, I want her to eat. I’ve been looking forward to having her in my space for me to cook for her for a long time now.

“Eat.” I smile and point to her food.

“It really is delicious. Thank you for making my favorite.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

We finish our meal, talking and laughing, enjoying our evening of quiet and alone. I stand up to clear the table, and even though I tell her I can do it on my own, she joins me, washing the pans and loading the dishwasher side by side.

“Dessert?” I ask her, holding up the chocolate cheesecake I had in the refrigerator.

“Look at you, pulling out all the stops.” She winks.

“I try.” I grin.

“Dessert later?”

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