Page 15 of Softer Than Stone
Chris let out a low groan of satisfaction, his eyes half lidded as he chewed. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”
Heat spread through me, pooling low in my belly. As much as I wanted to crawl under the table and go for round six—or was it seven?—this moment, us talking and getting to know each other, was just as good. Maybe better.
“It was my dad,” I finally said, leaning back and resting my elbow on the table. “He was the one who got me into cooking.”
Chris’s gaze sharpened, curiosity sparking in his warm golden eyes. “Your dad?”
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. He was a big fella—tough as they come—but he had this incredible passion for food. He used to say cooking wasn’t just about feeding people; it was about telling a story, connecting with them.”
Chris’s lips quirked into a smile, and I could see him picturing it.
“He loved teaching me how to make the traditional stuff—damper, kangaroo stew, wattleseed pancakes. But he was also a master of fusion. He’d take bush tucker ingredients and mix them with techniques from all over the world. I used to watch him cook, and it was like watching a magician at work. Every meal was an experience, you know?”
Chris’s smile grew wider. “So you inherited the magic.”
I snorted, feeling heat creep up my neck. “I don’t know about that, but yeah, I guess he passed it on. When I cook, it’s like I’m carrying a piece of him with me.”
He reached across the table and placed his large hand over mine, his touch grounding and reassuring. “Your dad sounds like an amazing man.”
“He was,” I said softly. “And he’d love this.” I gestured between us. “Sharing a meal, getting to know someone over food—that was his thing.”
Chris’s thumb traced a slow circle over my knuckles, his gaze locked on mine. “Then I owe him one for passing that on to you.”
My chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his tone. This man, who ate my food like it was his last meal on earth, who held my hand like it was something precious, was undoing me in ways I didn’t even realise were possible.
“Careful,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. “Keep talking like that, and I might have to cook for you every day.”
His grin was wicked and utterly irresistible. “Promise?”
The laugh that bubbled out of me felt lighter than it had in years. Maybe, just maybe, I could get used to this. “We’ll see. At the moment it’s a tentative yes.”
He quirked his brow at that but didn’t push.
The truth was, we were in a bubble of chemistry and passion, and yesterday had pushed my limits, making me feel briefly untethered, not only with what went down but with what could have been.
What was it that Sandra Bullock said to the hot-as-sin Keanu Reeves? “Relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last.” I wanted to flip Sandy’s character off that those words skipped around my brain. Hell, inSpeed 2, Jack was nowhere to be seen.
“What’s got you looking all tentative?” Chris’s smile faded a little. “It’s a look you usually wear when you’re pissed off or overthinking.”
My brows jumped high. “Is that right?”
“SICB agent, remember. I’m paid to know this shit.”
I snorted when he grinned, my shoulders relaxing when he hooked his foot around my ankle. I contemplated coming up with some sort of bullshit, but yesterday we’d had bullets whizzby us, trying to take us out. I figured that meant we owed each other honesty or something. “I was thinking about that movieSpeed.”
Chris nodded. “I know the one.” He eyed me, a picture of calm patience.
When I didn’t say anything, sure if I did and shared the quote I’d sound like a dick, he reached out and smoothed his fingers over mine until I turned my hand palm up to hold his hand. My heart flipped at the gesture.
Chris’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that made my stomach do strange flips. “Let me guess. You’re hung up on the part where Sandra Bullock says relationships that start under intense circumstances don’t last?”
My mouth parted, but no sound came out. Damn it, hedidknow what I was thinking.
He chuckled, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You’re forgetting something important about that quote.”
“Oh, yeah?” I managed, my voice catching.
“Yeah.” He leaned in just a little, close enough that his voice was a low rumble I could feel more than hear. “She said it. But she also kissed him at the end of the movie. That says something, don’t you think?”
