Page 72 of Major Love

He opens the door and winks. “It’s a surprise.”

Chapter 18

Sunday

“Hmm,shock,” I say, my tone light and teasing, as Jason drops the grocery bags on the counter and pulls out two large cuts of steak.

He glances down at me with a smirk as he finishes unpacking the groceries and then he’s carrying one hidden bag back over to his freezer.

I crane my neck to try and see what he’s slipping into the frozen drawer and, when I can’t see around his giant biceps, I hop down from my stool and pad over to him.

I’m only two feet away from him when he shuts the freezer door and turns to face me.

The corner of his mouth tugs up in amusement and then he jerks his chin back toward my stool.

“Do we need to go over the ‘no peeking’ rule again? Get your butt back in that chair.”

He starts walking forwards, completely undeterred that I’m in his way, and I have to backstep at a light jog so that he doesn’t plough right through me.

I peek over his shoulder again, wondering what little treat he’s hidden for me in his freezer.

“What am I not peeking at this time?” I ask, my voice slightly breathless.

That gets me a handsome grin and a low, rasping chuckle. “Stop trying to outsmart me,” he murmurs. “You’ll find out later.”

“But–”

He spins me around, making me squeal as his forearm squeezes my clavicle, and I laugh with delight as he chuckles gruffly above my head.

Then he lowers his stubbled jaw to the side of my cheek and murmurs, “You’re not wranglin’ a damn thing out of me, sweetheart.”

I know that he’s just messing with me but my stomach clenches at the roughness of his voice. And I know that he senses my reaction because he holds me tighter for an extra second, the large muscles of his chest heaving firmly against my back.

I shiver with pleasure and he exhales roughly from above.

He releases me and then waits as I climb up onto the barstool, his eyes burning into the side of my face as he absently washes his workingman’s hands.

I get myself comfortable on the stool and then peek up at him as I re-tie my ponytail, and his gaze lingers on mine before slowly roaming down my outfit.

I’m wearing my soft baby blue thermal set and, from the look in his eyes, I think he’s into it.

I pull my ponytail taut and then smooth my hands over my long-sleeved top, crossing one leg over the other as Jason blinks away from the curves of my chest.

I lean my elbows on the counter, smiling up at him as he moves around to the other side of the island.

“So, what are we having with our steaks, mountain man?” I tease, and his broad shoulders relax slightly, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

“I was thinking fries and some salad,” he says, gesturing toward the groceries with his giant knife.

And I have to stifle a laugh when I see what he’s pointing at.

The ‘salad’ is a bag of unidentifiable shop-bought leaves.

“I can do mash if you want,” he adds, as he finishes washing up the potatoes, and then he starts cutting them into large neat strips, his knife-handling effortless and efficient.

My eyes wander to his tan biceps no longer hidden by his winter workwear as they strain against the seams of his fitted short-sleeved shirt. It’s grey and stretching taut each time he presses his palm against the top of the blade, his biceps bulging out of the fabric with each loud snap of the knife against the chopping board.

I swallow thickly as I imagine him destroying a bowl of potatoes with a masher.

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