Page 34 of Flirty Thirty

“Hmm,” he mocks my non-response. I roll my eyes and put a teasing hand into his very hard stomach.

“Bye.” And just to show that I’m taking my role as fake wife seriously, I push up on my toes and give him another simple peck. See how he does with a not-enough kiss.

Satisfied with the surprise in his eyes, I slide my sunglasses down and take my spot behind the wheel. Thank heavens I’ve got a busy schedule to distract me from how long it’ll be until I can tease him again.

14

Crowns and Frowns

I open the door to the huge mansion, anticipation of seeing Cooper again after a very long day making my hands a little shaky on the knob. My tummy tickles are somewhat quieted when I walk into a giant smoke cloud.

“Cooper?” I ask, coughing through the fog. I duck down below the smoke line, squinting toward the kitchen, expecting to see giant yellow and red flames.

“It’s all good!” he calls back. “I’m cool, I got this.”

The high-pitched chirp of the smoke detectors start going off, and I slap my hands over my ears as I wade through the thick cloud. Cooper is jumping up to press the alarm off, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder and a questionable stain on his blue button-down.

I rush over to open a window, then quickly unlock the back patio doors and spread them wide. Cooper takes the towel draped over his shoulder and starts using it to direct the smoke outside. As it dissipates, I catch the open oven and a full stove top—the sources of the unfortunate air around us.

“Didn’t want to hire a chef either, huh?”

His nose wrinkles. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”

A smile creeps onto my lips, and I slither past him to see what the damage is. “What were you trying to make?” I ask, lifting a brow at the blackened indiscernible food.

“Chicken Parmesan.” He runs a hand through his blond locks. “Apparently it was a little too advanced for this bachelor.”

“Oh, but you aren’t a bachelor right now.” I give him a pointed look as I test several different drawers before finding an apron. His eyes watch me with careful concentration as I tie it around my waist. I’m extremely thankful that it fits. How embarrassing would that be if I couldn’t get the sucker into a bow while attempting to look all domestic?

I stand up straight, settling my hands on my hips. In the back of my mind I thought that rocking the “mom” look my sister usually dons would give him a hard dose of reality—this isn’t flattering on anyone, let alone someone who just got home from an achingly long day at work. However, judging by the dazed expression that has settled on his face, you’d think I’d taken clothing off, not put more on.

My mouth pools so suddenly that I have to gulp, and I struggle to maintain the teasing tone I’ve grown accustomed to in his presence. “Do you have any more chicken?”

He blinks himself free from his thoughts, grinning as if he didn’t just imagine me in some kinky housewife-type fantasy. “Don’t think it’s salvageable, huh?”

“I’m not eating it.” I laugh, poking at the burnt mess with a fork.

“Damn.” His shoulders slump next. “I used it all.”

His body is so close that the heat from the leftover smoke isn’t the only heat that’s causing my skin to flush. Taking a step back to keep my wits about me, I lean against the kitchen island and tap my nails near the cutting board.

“What else you got?”

He shrugs, slapping the dishtowel against the island by my hip. “Whey protein.” His shoulders shake as he laughs at my grimace. “Feel like take-out?”

A sigh of relief deflates my entire body. “Please.” I tear the apron off, slapping it onto the island watching as disappointment fills his expression as I strip myself from the domestic item.

In a moment of complete curiosity, I unbutton the top button of my pencil skirt and let my tummy loose—something I normally do the second I get home from work, but I’ve held that in for the sake of saving present company from seeing me so Homer Simpson.

Cooper confirms my theory, his lips turning up at the sight of me completely letting go, a rush of heat rising behind those blue irises. I’m so not used to these kinds of reactions to such simple, very human-like things. I wonder if I burped if he’d whisk me away for a night of torrid lovemaking.

His eyes lift to meet mine. “Also… I do have a chef. I’m reminded of why.”

I chuckle, nodding at his very accurate assessment of his cooking skills. Not that I can talk. Chicken Parm would be a little too advanced for me as well.

“I’m gonna get out of these,” I tell him, gesturing to my realtor wardrobe. On my way up the staircase, I make my dinner requests over my shoulder. “I like Hawaiian pizza and stuffed cheesy bread. Or if you go the Chinese route, I like mandarin chicken and beef and broccoli.”

“You sure you don’t need help getting out of those?” he calls up after me. I answer by tossing my jacket clean over his adorable face. I have a few theories I want to test tonight, and that smile will weaken my resolve to keep my distance long enough to prove their validity.

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