Page 37 of Absinthe Dreams
He smiled.
“Triple feature it is,” he said, and I laughed.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I shot back, getting to my feet.
He chuckled, stopping the movie a little way into the credits and going back to look for the next one in the queue.
I went and changed, like he suggested, slipping out of my jeans and pulling my top over my head to ditch them in the laundry. I slipped out of my bra and put it away where it belonged, and bravely opened my pajama drawer to dig past the comfortable and well-worn things I usually wore to find a set that I’d bought to make me feel pretty. It was a satin sleep setthat was a short pair of shorts and a light, flowy tank with lace along the bust in a pale, pale mint green that did magical things for my eyes.
I’d never worn it for anyone else’s eyes before, but I also didn’t feel like being upstaged in my own home – even if it wasn’t a beauty contest.
I stood in front of my full-length mirror and smoothed a hand over my stomach, turning to the side and chewing my bottom lip at the peek of my ass cheeks just below the hem of the high-cut shorts.
Maybe it was too much by not being enough, if you know what I mean…
Shit. Were we flirting?I didn’t even know.Was I reading things all wrong? Was this the worst idea in the history of bad ideas? Like, if there were an Olympics for bad ideas, what would this even rate? Did I think it would take the gold?
No. No, this wasn’t gold medal worthy when it came to bad ideas. Bronze maybe, or maybe runner-up right behind the bronze – which would just make me a loser…
Ugh, yes, you’re horny and being a loser! Jesus, Gen!
The timer on the oven went off, and I jumped, justbarelyescaping yelping out loud.
Fuck!
I split the difference with myself and grabbed my light, satin robe that was short, but longer than the shorts I had on underneath it.
I wrapped myself in it and made sure to tie the strings on the inside to keep it from falling open, even if the sash gave way for some reason.
I heard Chainsaw curse, and I called out, “Coming!”
I rushed out the bedroom door and caught him closing the oven with one hand while shaking the other out.
“No, it’s all good. Pot holder just shifted on me a little. Don’t even need to run it under cold water.”
“Oh, yikes – good though, that’s good. How’s it look?”
“Uh, I don’t know how it’s supposed to look, but it smells fantast—” He’d turned his head and looked at me.
“I take that back, you look great. Stunning, actually.”
I laughed and shook my head, realizing I’d not freed it from its ponytail and riding sheath.
I reached up and back and took my hair down.
“Be right back. Let me put this away.” I turned and went back for the bedroom, but didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath behind me as he watched me go.
I give it a 9.5,I thought to myself with a satisfied little smirk. When I returned to the kitchen, it was to Chainsaw pulling down a pair of plates.
“This looks real good,” he said, and I smiled.
“Thanks, it’s a chicken cordon bleu bake. Hope that’s alright.”
“More than. I can’t remember the last time I had a meal someone else cooked in their kitchen that wasn’t a restaurant.”
“Well, I’m not a Michelin Star chef, but I don’t do too badly for myself. My mom was a great cook, and we sort of did most of our bonding in the kitchen,” I told him.
“The only cooking my mom did was with a spoon and a lighter, and I have no idea who my dad was,” he said.
