Page 198 of One More Kiss

“If writing full time would be wonderful, why don’t you do that?”

He was facing the stove and stirring. His ass in the long underwear was a little distracting and I paused long enough for him to turn around. The edge of his lip twitched the way it did at the store.

“Uh, it doesn’t really pay well. Sort of a passion thing.”

He nodded then went back to stirring after he flipped the steaks. The sizzle popped and the smell of beef and garlic became stronger.

I sipped my Fireball, faster than I should. “Do you work?” What kind of question was that? “I mean, you obviously work, but do you have anything going on besides the cabin business?”

“I dabble in lumber. The cabins are alright but with only three, it’s not much to raise a son on.”

I wanted to be nosey and ask about his son, and his son’s mother, but I didn’t have enough Fireball for that just yet.

He turned and handed me a plate with steak and mixed veggies. “Thanks, this smells and looks great.”

“Least I could do for crashing your party.”

I was feeling warm and loose from the Fireball. “I’m starving. Someone interrupted my lunch today.”

He turned and gave me a fork and a knife. “Can I trust you with this?”

Damn giggles. “Yes. Give me that, stinker.”

“Stinker. I guess I’ve been called worse.”

I smiled and started eating my food. We both finished quietly then I helped clean up.

“Go sit. Write. I can do this.”

“You cooked. I can clean. Fair is fair.”

“It’s your vacation. Now go sit.”

With a sigh I conceded and poured myself a little more Fireball then went and grabbed the remote before settling into the couch.

I turned the sound up a little then started scrolling through the channels.

“Hey, I said go sit, not take over the TV. I need to see if there’s any updates.”

“Like you said, it’s my vacation.”

He came and sat back in the chair with a beer. “Fine. Watch whatever tickles your fancy.”

It would tickle my fancy to watch him undress, but instead I landed on a true crime show.

“Oh hell, you’re one of those women.”

“What does that mean?”

“You watch true crime and hate men.”

I looked over my shoulder. “If the shoe fits.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting by his wide-eyed expression.

I smiled then turned back. My eyes felt heavy, and I burrowed into the couch.

The narrator of the show had a soothing voice, even though they were talking about murderers. I was listening but my eyes closed after I tried to fight to keep them open. Resting my eyes a moment wouldn’t hurt, then I could get up and go to bed.

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