Page 65 of Crave Thy Neighbor

“I told you—I’m not much of a cook.”

“I can see that.” She slides some spices around, then pulls a few out and sets them on the counter. “Hmm. We can work with this. Want to start on the grilled cheese? If you can handle it, I mean.” She grins.

I narrow my eyes at her. “I can make grilled cheese.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

We work side by side, her dressing up the tomato soup and me making the best damn grilled cheese she’ll ever have.

About ten minutes later, we’re plating our food. She hops up onto the counter to eat, and I lean against the counter across from her.

I take a bite of the soup, and flavor explodes on my tongue.

I mean, it’s just canned soup, but she really dressed it up.

“This is good.”

“Right? Adding a few spices kicks things up a notch. Normally I’d add some chipotle into the mix, but you didn’t have any.”

“You a spicy food fan?”

“Oh yeah. The spicier the better.”

“Like the meatier the better?”

Her cheeks redden, and I swear her eyes drop to my crotch for the briefest of seconds before she’s clearing her throat and looking away.

“I should have brought my table and chairs too,” she says. “That way we could eat at the table.”

“Nah. You’re only here two months, right? No sense hauling your stuff all over the place. Besides, I should get my own shit soon. I’m just awful at picking stuff out.”

“Let me help then. Maybe the next time we’re both off, we can go shopping?”

I should say no, should not let her get more tangled up in my life and continue keeping her at arm’s length.

Instead, I find myself nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“It’s a date then.”

I wait for the panic to hit me at her choice of words.

It never comes.

She sets her soup down, then picks up her grilled cheese and takes a healthy bite.

“Oh shit.” She moans, and the sound goes straight to my dick.Calm down, boy.“This is so good, Nolan.”

“It’s just grilled cheese.”

“It’s damn good grilled cheese.” She takes another bite, then swallows. “Man, I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me at home. Probably not since I lived with my parents.”

“Did your ex not cook for you?”

She barks out a laugh. “No. Never.”

“Wait…likenevernever? In all the years you were married…never?”

She shakes her head. “No. He worked all the time, so I was responsible for making dinner.”

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