Page 87 of Delay of Game

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, and pats my shoulder.

“Where are we going?”Alice asks as soon as she opens her apartment door, giving me a wide smile. She’s wearing her signature pink lipstick and my favorite dress—the green sweater one that shows off her ass.

I smirk and swing my hand around from where it’s hiding behind my back. She gasps at the bouquet of white roses I hold and gingerly takes it from me. With her nose buried in them, she says, “Thank you, but you didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

My hands grip the door frame as I lean in and steal a kiss, whispering against her lips, “I’m just making up for all the dates I never took you on.”

“Aw, J,” she says, motioning for me to go inside while she adds the flowers to a jar of water. As soon as her hands are free again, I spin her around and place them around my neck, pulling her in and swaying in the kitchen. “What are you doing?” she giggles.

“Dancing with you,” I say, not able to contain my grin. “I want to fit a thousand little moments in this one date,” I say against her lips. “You deserve the best.”

“Have you been reading more romance novels?” she asks, eyes narrowing on me. “You’re giving off cinnamon roll vibes.”

I laugh and kiss her forehead, spinning her around and catching her right back in my arms. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she says, blushing.

“Hmm, well I haven’t been reading anything lately. Except for your book.”

“What?” she pulls back, her blue eyes widening.

“That night we were babysitting and you fell asleep while writing, I put your laptop away and started reading the copy you had of your book. I got halfway through it before you took it home the next day,” I say, biting back my smile at her shocked expression.

“Oh,” she says, chewing on her lip. “What did you think?”

I tilt my head in thought and look towards the living room, spotting the book on the coffee table. “I think I need to know if Elissa and Jackson get their happy ending.”

Alice’s expression softens, her lips pulling into a small smile. “They do,” she whispers.

“Shh, spoiler alert,” I laugh, placing my hand on her mouth. She giggles and fists the side of my coat, pulling me in for a kiss. When she pulls back I say, “I want to finish it. It’s really good.”

“Yeah?” she blushes, looking up at me through her lashes.

“Yeah.”

“I guess you can borrow it,” she says, rolling her eyes and pulling away to get her coat on. “If you tell me where we’re going.”

I grin and shake my head, giving in. “I booked us a cooking class.”

Alice gasps and clasps her hands in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! I’ve been wanting to go to one forever.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing her hand and leading her out the door.

Alice

The cooking classis at one of the local Italian restaurants. The addition in the back is used primarily for catering purposes and teaching beginner classes. Our instructor, Chef Roman, walks us through the space and gives us a little bit of history about the place and what we’ll be making.

“Each couple can get situated at one of these tables.” He gestures to the stainless steel tables, which have an assortment of ingredients and tools on them.

I pick up the little pizza cutter and smile excitedly at Jordan. I feel like he hasn’t taken his eyes off me this whole time. Ever since he showed up at my doorstep with flowers, he’s been absolutely perfect. I blush thinking about how he admitted to reading my book. When I peer over at him, he’s grinning, looking delectable in a dark red sweater that complements the green of my dress.

I know he wants this day to be perfect, but I also need him to know that I’ll take all the versions of him. I want him completely. Desperately.

“And today we will be making ravioli from scratch. After the class, you can move to the main restaurant, where a table has been reserved for each couple to enjoy a three-course meal. Are you ready to begin?” the chef asks with a smile, and we all nod.

It’s hard to concentrate on anything Chef Roman is saying as my eyes keep straying to Jordan and the way he rolls up his sleeves. Or how his deft fingers tie his apron. Or how his chocolate eyes find mine, making sure I’m having a good time.

“Miss Alice?” someone says, breaking me out of my reverie as I imagine Jordan’s fingers wrapped around my throat.

---