Page 39 of Lorcan
I put my hand on my hip. “No one—and I meanno oneis allowed to know Aunt Genessa’s secret ingredient.”
He rolled his eyes. “Who exactly am I going to tell?”
“Well… I don’t know. Some criminal gang might kidnap you and torture you until you tell them.”
He laughed. “How about I go find the Vancouver versus Toronto game on your big-screen television and you can add this super-secret ingredient?” He pointed at me. “But if I guess correctly, you have to admit it.”
“You’ll never guess.” I puffed out my chest with absolute confidence.
He leaned over the bar.
I met him halfway.
We kissed.
He smiled, then sauntered away.
I grabbed the secret ingredient from the fridge, added a couple of tablespoons, and put it back. I glanced over to see if he was cheating, but his concentration was fully on the remote and the television.
“Hey, game starts in eight minutes.”
“Perfect.” I grabbed two of my nice plates. My china plates, to be exact. Aunt Genessa had gifted these to me when I took possession of the condo. They had been part of her trousseau when she was supposed to marry her childhood sweetheart. He died a week before the wedding in a tragic car accident up near Crow’s Nest Pass.
Genessa tried to give back the gifts, but most people insisted she keep them for when she found another husband.
Which, of course, never happened.
When she moved into her own condo, she had just about everything she needed to start her life as a single woman.
The china set suited her sensibilities—a rich cream color with gold accents. Admittedly, I didn’t use this often—I wasn’t a fan of handwashing things. Still, Lorcan deserved the best.
I dished out two servings and put them on the island. “It’s ready.” I went to the fridge to grab the parmesan.
“This smells amazing. I can’t remember the last time someone—” He winced. “Actually, I probably could. Well…maybe. I did most of the cooking, and I swore I wasn’t going to talk about him anymore.”
I reached for his hand that rested on the island. I squeezed. “Jackass will always be part of your past. I’m not hurt when you talk about him. In fact, I’m hoping the venting is allowing you some perspective.”
“But I should save it for my time with Justin?”
“Yes, you should share everything with him that you’re sharing with me.”Well, I’d prefer my coworker not know that I had your cock down my throat on our first date, but whatever.“He won’t judge. Just like I’m not judging.” I released his hand so I could hand him the parmesan cheese. “But you can also tell me anything. As a potential partner—and maybe even Daddy—I need to know what your triggers are.”
“Like I should know things for you?”
His insight hit hard. Because no way could I tell him about my biggest trigger—which was also my biggest failure. “Uh, sure.” I gestured for him to pour the cheese if he was interested.
He was, and he sprinkled his pasta with the cheese. Then he handed the container to me. “Do you want to sit in front of the television or at the table? One is far more civilized.”
I waved him off. “You don’t get to watch much hockey—let’s enjoy ourselves.” I snagged a couple of cloth napkins from a drawer.
His eyebrows shot up at the sight. “Really?”
“Better than paper napkins—those are bad for the environment, and I only use them when I don’t have any other choice.”
He chuckled. “I have a stash of the paper ones from when I visit a fast-food joint.”
“Not really healthy.”
“Or good for my wallet.”
