Page 68 of Gone for You

She bites her lip rather than responding.

“I need a shower.”

“You really do.” She scrunches her nose and flicks the bottom of my t-shirt. I’ve been restocking the bar then cleaning up the back room for the past several hours and I’m sweaty, dirty and pretty fucking gross.

“You like it.” I rub the top of my head against her cheek and she shrieks, shuffling out of the way.

“Gah, you’re so gross!”

I chuckle, reach behind my head and pull my shirt off and toss it at her. She blocks it before it hits her in the face. “No dinner for you if you keep up that nasty shit!”

“Right. Like you’d ever let me go hungry.”

“Puhlease. Like I care.”

I turn around, walking backward as I say, “Mm hmm. Keep telling yourself that, sunshine. Fight it all you want, but I know the truth.”

Spinning back around on my heel, I don’t wait for her response. I strip out of my clothes, toss them in the hamper in my closet and take a quick shower, not willing to waste any more time getting back to Liv, I skip shaving.

The vision that greets me when I cross into the kitchen stops me in my tracks, the shirt still in my hands, waiting to be slid over my shoulders. Liv’s hips are shaking side to side as she cuts up vegetables for a salad, her voice quietly singing along to whatever song’s playing in her head.

Her head lifts when she feels me watching her, those bright blue eyes focusing on my bare chest. I take my time putting on my shirt and she blows out a shaky breath.

Smiling, I make my way toward her, snatching a cherry tomato out of the bowl and popping it into my mouth. With a hard bite, the juice explodes in my mouth.

I chew slowly, both of us staring into each other’s eyes until I swallow dramatically, making a gulping sound.

Then we burst out laughing.

“You’re such a goob.”

“I know.”

She shakes her head, moving the salad bowl to the side. “Can you put the pasta in the water? It’s boiling but I haven’t salted it yet.”

“Yup.” I salt the water then open the box of spaghetti and drop it into the boiling water, stirring the noodles around a bit then turning down the burner. I’m no chef, but I can make one helluva grilled cheese sandwich and I can light up the grill like nobody’s business. Basically, I live off typical guy food.

We set the table and she takes out some bread from the oven. Pours herself a glass of wine while I pop the top off a beer for me.

Ten minutes later, we’re sitting down at the table together, eating spaghetti and talking about our day.

As soon as the tangy sauce hits my tongue, I groan.

“Good?”

“Amazing. You could bottle this up and sell it.”

She fluffs her hair. “My options are endless, right?”

“Your future’s bright.” I smirk. “So tell me. What other meals did you put in that date night article?”

“A couple seafood dishes…”

“Don’t tell me you included oysters.”

“Of course I did. The people would be disappointed if I didn’t include the horny stuff.”

“Gotta give the people what they want.” Liv gives me an exaggerated wink and slurps a noodle into her mouth, sauce hitting the side of her face. I reach over and clean her up with my napkin. “You’re such a mess. How is spaghetti supposed to be one of the best date night meals?”

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