Page 79 of Four Letter Feelings

“Jesus, woman!” He shifted in his chair. “You’re making this very, eh, hard for me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had something green that tasted quite so delicious in my mouth before.”

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

He attempted to eat his food, but kept stealing glances at her when she made a satisfied sound or tried something new.

“What’s in these potatoes, Jer? They’re delicious. I’m going to need seconds.”

He chuckled at how comfortable she seemed, it was as though she’d left her prickly anti-hockey-boy armor at the doorstep and only her warm and fuzzy insides sat facing him at the table. He stood up and refilled their glasses, leaning over her as he did, for no other reason than he wanted to smell her shampoo and be closer to her.

“You’re sniffing me again, aren’t you?” she asked with a mouth full of food.

“Guilty,” he answered. “I can’t say I’m normally in the habit of sniffing women. But you smell good.”

“Thanks, I think.” Color pinkened her cheeks and she smiled. “I can’t say I’ve ever been told that before.”

A contented silence fell over the table as they finished their food. “Can we put some music on?”

“Oh God. Is this where you subject me to those boys with guitars you’re obsessed with?”

“For someone who seems so nonchalant and IDGAF you sure as hell pay close attention to things, don’t you?” She laughed as he asked Alexa to play Matt Nathanson for her.

“I pay close attention to you.”

“I don’t date hockey players, Jer,” she cautioned.

“Can’t you date someone who just so happens to also play hockey?”

“I’m going to make a playlist for you,” she answered, clearly ignoring his question. “I think you’ll like it, they may be boys with guitars but they play good music, and not all sad and sappy stuff, either.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t you trust me, Mr. Lewis?”

He stood up and picked up their empty plates. As he stacked the dishwasher, he watched Chelsea open the cake box. As she presented a tall, rich-looking chocolate cake his mind turned to thoughts of where he could lick that chocolate frosting from her skin. She found her way around their kitchen without instruction and plated two slabs of cake, rinsed some strawberries, sat them next to the cake and added the final touch with a squirt of cream next to it.

“Et voila!” she announced with a giggle as she turned to hand him a plate. “I feel a little less smug with my small business, locally made cake now that it turns out you’re Gordon Ramsay or some shit, but I know for sure that it tastes good.”

“Is this your friend’s bakery? Stephanie, right?”

She giggled and shook her head. “We really need to get you away from Facebook. Yes, it’s Stephanie’s bakery. She leans towards a more European way of baking, so I figured you’d like it.”

His fork cut through the cake like a hot knife through butter and his taste buds exploded as the cake hit his tongue. It was his turn to moan.

“Oh… my… GOD… Ok, I’m claiming the rest of that cake. It’s mine now.”

“Right?” She waved her fork in his direction. “She’s a goddess in the kitchen.”

“Maybe I’m pursuing the wrong woman,” he mused, savoring another bite.

“She’s taken.”

“I’m not really interested in the cake lady.”

She finished her dessert and stood up again, taking his dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. He could see indecision flickering across her face. She tucked her hands into her butt-pockets and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I guess I should be going.”

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