Page 47 of Dirty Puck

With the rest of the family in the house, I needed to know a few things for my shopping list. “Does your mom like tiramisu?”

“It’s coffee, chocolate, and cream—what, do you think she’s a heathen?”

Laughing, I slapped his arm. “No need to get your panties in a bunch. It was an honest question.”

“She loves it.”

“Good. Then that’ll be dessert.”

He opened the car door for me and I slipped in, buckling my seatbelt as he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat.

“What are you thinking for dinner?” he asked whilebacking out of the driveway. I waited until he got us on the road driving before answering so he could concentrate.

“Oh, I have a great recipe. I never knew my biological grandmother because she died before I was born, but when I was a kid, my mom used to make this dish. It’s amazing.”

“Great, but what is it?” he asked sarcastically.

“Ye of little faith. Now I’m not going to tell you at all. You’ll just have to guess from the ingredients.”

“Woman,” he grumbled. Grabbing hold of the back of my head, he tugged me to him, planting a quick, punishing kiss on me. “You’ll pay for that one.”

Breathily, I answered, “I don’t think I will.” His kisses were the stuff of legend and still made my toes curl and my skin tingle every single time. My head knew he faked it, but my body couldn’t have cared less. And if being playful got me more of them, then that was what I intended to do.

“You’re really not going to tell me?”

“I told you, you’ll just have to guess or wait for the feast. Your choice.” Then I tweaked his nose for good measure. And I got the feeling that if I’d been anybody else, he’d have let me have it for that little move.

While we drove, I typed up a list on my notepad on my phone. This meal hadepicwritten all over it.

Once we got into the store, I got right down to business. “We need cabbage.”

“You making slaw?”

“Not even close. Now, lead the way, good man.”

Snickering, Reece led us to the produce section. I grabbed a head of cabbage, an onion, and a bag of Yukon Gold potatoes to get us started.

By the time we got to the bottom of my list, I had to hunt down a box of Nilla Wafers since the store didn’t carry ladyfingers. No mascarpone either—not ideal, but I could make it work. Thinning some cream cheese with a bit of cream and a touch of sugar would get me close enough.

And while I was at it, I decided to skip the whipped egg whites. I knew that might ruffle a few traditionalist feathers, but I preferred whipped cream anyway—lighter, silkier, and without that weird meringue texture I couldn’t stand.

Before checking out, I sent Reece to find me a tin of good-quality cocoa powder and a bar of chocolate to shave over the top. It wouldn’t be textbook tiramisu, but it would taste damn good.

“I still have no idea what you’re making,” Reece said.

“You’ll love it. I promise. You’re sharing your mom with me, so I’m sharing my mom with you.”

“Fuck, Bree,” he whispered and the look in his eyes could’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t been holding on to the shelf. For as long as this thing lasted between us, I wanted to continue seeing that look.

It took an old woman passing us with her cart to finally get him to turn away. He cleared his throat and started unloading our haul onto the conveyor belt. Then Reece paid for everything. He wouldn’t look at me and I worried that I’d pissed him off. But while we walked the cart out to the car, he stopped abruptly, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me.

The man confused the hell out of me, but I took from the kiss that he wasn’t pissed? Once back at the house and after we’d lugged all the bags inside, I gave Char her surprise.

“Baker has told me all about Sunday dinners with you, so we wanted to surprise you with a Sunday dinner of stuffed cabbage rolls and boiled potatoes, crusty rolls with a yummy brown sugar butter, and tiramisu for dessert.”

His mother gasped, clasping her hands together in front of her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Baker and I have this under control.”

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