Page 47 of Hungry Hearts

ME:Hm. I guess I didn’t leave much of a lasting impression on you if you’ve forgotten me so easily.

RYDER:Babe. I have every inch of your body tattooed in my brain. From the freckle on the bottom of your left ass cheek to the tiny scar under your right knee to the honey taste of your pu–

*filter applied*

I hug the couch pillow to my chest and giggle.

ME:I don’t have a freckle on my butt.

RYDER:I can come over and take a picture. Say the word.

ME:Aren’t you working?

RYDER:I have a kitchen staff.

ME:Won’t your fans who pay buckets of money to have their meal prepared by world-renowned Chef Ryder Benton be disappointed?

RYDER:A. Don’t care. B. I’m not “world-renowned” but it turns me on that you think so. C. Seeing, smelling, tasting, touching, hearing you is worth it.

It’s more than the flutters in my belly. There’s a tingling between my legs and a need so strong that I can’t hold back anymore. He’s worth the risk. Worth taking the risk.

ME:I’m free for dinner tomorrow night.

RYDER:Will there be dessert?

Ryder’s a virile man and now I regret putting this offer on the table, no pun intended. I’m offering him more than sex, but I don’t know if he’ll be satisfied with that. I clear my throat, even though I’m not speaking the words.

ME:It would be dinner for three.

Ryder:?

ME:Ruby will be with us.

My stomach is in knots while I wait for his reply. It doesn’t come right away. There aren’t even three dots indicating he’s working on a text. I bite at my thumbnail, cursing myself for pushing my daughter on him. Like he said, he wouldn’t have slept with me if he knew I had a daughter, and now I’m pushing her in his face.

Ten minutes go by and still no response. I turn off the show I wasn’t even watching and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine. It isn’t until I plug my phone in on my bedside table and am under my blankets that my phone rings.

My heart lodges itself in my throat and I answer the call.

“Hi.”

“Did I wake you?” There’s a flurry of noise in the background before it quiets down.

“I’m just settling into bed.”

Ryder moans. “Sorry I didn’t text back. Janice’s sleeve caught fire and my sous chef was so distracted by the flames that she sliced her finger. Needless to say, it’s been a crazy night.”

“You don’t have to call to apologize, Ryder. You’re busy. I understand. I shouldn’t have dropped that on you in a text, especially in the middle of your dinner rush.”

“Maia.” His tone is deep and growly. “Dinner rush was two hours ago. You can text, call, or see me anytime you want.”

“Okay.” It’s a stupid response but I don’t know what else to say. Texting is easier. I’m braver. Bolder with my flirting. Now I sound like an idiot.

“And the answer is yes. Hell yes.”

“Yes?” For a moment I forgot the question.Dinner with me and Ruby.

“I’d love to meet your daughter, and of course, to see you.”

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