Page 100 of Maximum Dare
I found a vase and filled it with water, and then set about arranging the flowers, admiring the white leaves bursting with life.
“Well, I have tasted British food before.” Max looked amused as he shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over a barstool. “I spent my summers here, remember? Not that I’m not grateful.”
“I bet you’ve not tasted this delicacy.”
“Something tells me I’m going to be blown away.” He leaned in and trailed kisses along my neck, moving to my chin.
The press of his lips to my mouth stilled my reeling thoughts, his firm body trapping me deliciously between him and the countertop. Being in his embrace made all of my concerns, all my worries, slip away. His tenderness gave me the faith I needed to trust in our happiness.
The timer buzzed.
“It’s ready,” I announced.
He continued kissing my neck. “I don’t mind it being a little overcooked.”
I moved away from him towards the oven. “Not with this. I have to take it out of the pot.” I pulled on the oven mitts and waved them at him playfully. “I can’t wait for you to taste this.”
Reaching into the large pan, I removed the dish and carried it carefully over to the plate waiting on the central island. Tipping the porcelain dish upside down, I let the dessert slip onto the waiting plate. The fluffy sponge was perfectly formed and covered in currents, their sweet scent wafting around us.
Max gave me an uneasy smile. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it?”
“Don’t knock it til’ you’ve tried it.”
He backed up a little. “No way.”
I reached for a teaspoon and scooped out a mouthful from the top of the sponge for him to taste. Max raised his hands in the air, shaking his head and playfully declining.
“I baked it especially for you.”
“You went to all this trouble, for which I am grateful. Can I just admire your talent from here?”
“You can’t say no.”
“This is me saying no.” He stepped back farther, laughing.
I raised the spoon toward his mouth. “You have to eat the spotted dick!”
“I’m not eating anything that has the word ‘dick’ in it.”
I chased after him down the hallway with the spoon. “Pretend it’s called something else.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Max pivoted and burst into the living room.
“Where are you going? I baked this for you!”
“Help!” He laughed raucously as he backed up against the couch.
I waved the spoon in front of his face. “Eat it.”
“What have I ever done to you?”
“Close your eyes if that helps.”
“It doesn’t.” He fell back onto the couch.
Straddling him, I pressed the spoon to his mouth. “Humor me.”
He let out a sigh of frustration. “Only because you baked it, Daisy. This is me proving how much your happiness means to me. And I’m not promising that I’ll ever eat this or any other British food again.”
