Page 94 of The Sweetest Devotion

Keith was quick to shake his head. “Hell no.”

Pouting, I gave him the puppy dog eyes. “For me?”

Once more, he made a face and rolled his eyes, before giving in. But not without slapping my butt. “Fine.”

The goofiest smile crept across my face and I said nothing further.

We got cleaned up before settling down in his dining room and helping ourselves to his mother’s prepared meal. Sundried tomatoes in a thick and creamy parmesan sauce, the Marry Me Chicken was to die for. I ate like I hadn’t eaten in years and I wasn’t ashamed. I had to try this with fish.

“Okay, this is the first recipe you have to teach me,” I declared as I ate another serving of pasta.

Keith forked at his chicken. “I change my mind about that.”

I paused. “What do you mean?”

“You can take a cooking class,” he said simply. “Besides, I could replicate this meal, but my mom’s the master at it.”

He didn’t want to teach me to cook anymore. He was right about me taking a class, where I could learn to create all kinds of dishes, but the stab of his refusal sank deep.

“Okay,” I responded. I let it go and moved on. “Still, did she teach you how to cook?”

Keith took a swig of his water and nodded. “Yeah, her and my grandma.”

“Was it just you three growing up?”

“Yeah, my grandfather died when I was a kid. Complications from cancer, if I’m remembering right,” Keith went on. “My foundation and my roots are definitely my mom, my grandmother, and my uncle Rod.”

I all but abandoned my food as he began telling me about some mishap from his youth that involved him eating all of his grandmother’s ham and her teaching him how to make it to replace it.

I liked hearing Keith talk. The steady timbre of his deep voice telling me story after story never got old.

Before long, though, my eyelids grew heavy and I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a few yawns.

“I should get going,” I said as I covered my mouth on my fifth yawn.

Keith stood and collected our plates. “You should stay the night. You’re tired.”

“It’s not that long of a drive,” I assured him.

“I’m not letting you take that risk,” Keith said adamantly.

I fingered the condensation on my glass of water. “Don’t boss me around.”

His hand was in my hair, his fingers grazing my scalp as he tilted my head back. Peering into his eyes, I knew then I didn’twantto leave. “Please stay? I don’t know what I’d do if you fell asleep at the wheel and got hurt.”

How could I ever go just then? “Okay.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch. You can shower and take my bed. I’ll even wash those clothes for you.” Keith was out of the room taking our dishes to the sink before I could respond.

One minute he was close, and the next he was distant. I didn’t like it. It was probably for our own good. To sleep separately, but I didn’t want it.

Keith was right, though. As I dragged myself to his bedroom, I found it hard to keep my eyes open. The idea of stripping down and showering even sounded like too much work. His bed was all too inviting, but my clothes were dirty and I was sweaty. I didn’t want to soil his sheets.

So I did the next best thing, I got down on the floor, folded my arms and rested, prepared for sleep.

I had barely drifted off when I heard his heavy footsteps entering the room.

“What are you doing on the floor, Kenny?” His tone was amused, yet it was doused in a sleepiness that sent warmth below my belly. Something like syrup came to mind of just how sticky his voice was to the ear.

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