Page 9 of Teach Me to Laugh

“What’s wrong with it?” He handed me a fork and stabbed his deep into the cake, foregoing plates.

“There’s no privacy.” I said dumbly, staring at the big cake-barbarian. “Aren’t you going to use a plate?”

“Why? It’s just me and you living here.”

“Tell me you don’t have that view in regards to the milk container?” I could already feel my belly churning.

“No worries there. Drinking out of the milk carton makes it go bad faster and I’m not much for milk. Juice, though, is fair game.”

“Gross. I’ll buy my own juice from now on.”

“I’ll still drink it.” He stabbed his fork into the cake again, taking another large bite. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Doubt it.” I muttered, swiping my fork through the thick icing on the corner of the cake. I didn’t have a bit of cake on my fork when I poked my tongue out to lick the icing.So. Freaking. Good.

And then I noticed Beckett’s eyes on me. I paused as we locked eyes.

An uncomfortable kind of heat flooded into my belly, my enjoyment of my most favorite thing on earth taking second place to the weird sensation, and I swallowed the sweetness on my tongue. “What?”

“Raina wasn’t lying.” His voice was deep and rough, and Isodidn’t like that. “You do like icing.”

“Yep.” I dropped my fork and slid off my stool. I hated it when men looked at me like Beckett was looking at me.

I hated it when men looked at me like this, but I felt oddly warm when Beckett did it.

And I didn’t understand why.

“Where are you going?”

“Pouring a juice before you get the chance to contaminate it.” I said, reaching into the fridge for my unopened carton of raspberry juice. It was another one of my weaknesses.

“Sorry,” Beckett said and I startled, confused.

“Why are you sorry?” And then I realized the seal was broken. “Beckett! You didn’t.”

“I actually used a cup for that.”

“Raspberry juice is mine. It’s the one thing I told you I don’t share. I love raspberry juice.”

“What if I promise to never let it run out? Will you share then?”

I popped my hip, dropping a hand onto it. “You’re promising a never ending supply?”

“I am.” He straightened from his crouched position over the counter, nodding. “What do you say?”

“I say that’s a pretty good deal. As long as you’re not drinking from my jug.”

“See how well we work together?”

I snorted and poured my glass. With the heat gone from his eyes and the stirring now dormant in my belly, I rejoined him at the counter and lifted my fork.

Of course, we didn’t eat the whole thing. But we definitely ate more than we would have had he simply pulled two plates from the cupboard.

“You’re a bad influence for my hips.”

“You’ve got great hips and an addiction to the gym. I have a feeling you’ll be fine.”

I had great hips.This was something I knew, but it was something that, when hearing it from Beckett, stirred all kinds of gooey, and entirely inappropriate feelings inside of me.

---