Page 57 of Almost Love

“Breakfast tostadas.”

“It’s dinner time, baby,” he teased, smiling when Clementine grunted.

“Breakfast for dinner is a thing you need to get on board with.”

“Anything for you.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Stepping aside when she nudged him, he stood at a safe distance and watched her instead. Clementine’s cooking process was pretty incredible, precise and clean. Her bakery kitchen had to be run in the same kind of way, because not a single thing was out of place. She seemed to do everything thoroughly, including kissing him. He wanted to taste that mouth, feel her warm tongue against his, know that her knees shook as much as his did when they were pressed up against each other like that.

She turned to him, thoughts fading away as he took in the food. “Okay, dinner is served.”

“That looks amazing.” Ten palm-sized tortillas were set on a large wooden board and each one was piled high with eggs, guacamole, beans and topped off with bacon bits and grated cheese.

“They’re kinda messy, so where do you wanna eat?” He looked around the kitchen before dropping to the floor right where he was. She arched an eyebrow and said, “Right there?”

“This is the cleanest kitchen I’ve ever been in.”

She snorted, handed him the food and sat down. They stretched their legs out and he set the board on his thighs, so both of them could reach it. She instructed him on how best to eat the tostada without dropping anything and despite that, he still spilled some of it onto his clothes.

“You’re a child,” she told him, tsking like a parent as she used her fingers to wipe off the guac and pick up the pieces of bacon he dropped. Instead of putting it on the plate, she held her hand up to his mouth. “We don’t waste even a drop in this house.”

“Yes, chef.” He hadn’t been prepared for licking fingers, but Oakley wrapped his mouth around the two food-covered digits and swept the bits in with his tongue. He sucked on her fingers for good measure and felt a small sense of victory at the way her eyes darkened.

She stared at him a long moment and cleared her throat before speaking. “What’s the weirdest tattoo you’ve done recently?”

He shifted on the floor, adjusting himself, because holy shit he was so hard. “Uh…this girl came in the other day with a self-portrait of her vagina and wanted me to tattoo that onto her arm.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not the weirdest one I’ve ever done, but it was interesting.”

“I love that level of confidence,” she said as she chewed. “I doubt I could ever do that.”

“We’ll get you there, Clem.”

“Not that I want my vagina tattooed anywhere, but sure.”

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “What kind of cake did you conjure up this week?”

“My staff made one in honor of me, which the couple rejected.” She shifted so they were facing each other. “Clementine and Blood Orange.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Itlooksit,” she nodded. “But I brought you a slice, along with another one they didn’t like.”

“You spoil me, babycakes.”

“You won’t get a single crumb if that sticks.”

Oakley zipped his lips, even though he was dying to laugh. He ate the next tostada in silence, watching as she stuffed her face. When she was done, she got to her feet and he smiled as she puttered around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets.

She returned to sit beside him, a large plate with two thick slices of cake. His eyes almost popped out of his head, because not only were they huge, they looked really good. Then again, everything she made was really good. One, which he assumed was the Blood Orange cake, was a deep reddish-orange that looked like it might turn his insides the same shade. The second one had white frosting with a light yellow inside, clearly the tamer of the two. In any other situation, that might have worried him, but he trusted Clementine.

“What’s the other one?”

“You can taste and tell me,” she said with a smile, swapping the tostadas for the cake.

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