I was in Tate’s kitchen chopping cucumbers and tossing them in the bowl with the rest of the veggies I’d prepared for the salad we were having with dinner.
The Moist Factor Five Hundred cake was in the oven and the bowl of my grandfather’s famous mustard glaze I’d mixed together was fermenting in the fridge ready to put on the pork tenderloin which would go into the oven after the cakes came out.
I sensed movement and my head came up from chopping to see Tate walking through the dining room toward the kitchen, a drill in one hand, the handle of a toolbox in the other. I was so busy chopping, I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t hearing the drill anymore. His eyes came to me, I smiled at him, his face got soft in a warm way when he caught my smile and he walked right through the kitchen to the hallway leading to the garage.
I stared after him long after he disappeared.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen his face get soft like that but I figured I didn’t because it was definitely a look I’d never forget seeing.
I pulled myself together, dropped the knife, wiped my hands on a towel and walked to the bedroom.
The curtains were up. They were to-the-floor, dark denim with loops at the top that were hooked over rusty-looking thin, square rods that had killer jagged ends. Tate had two big windows in his bedroom, one facing the front of the house, one the side, the bathroom and walk-in closet took the back of the room. The curtains transformed it. The new sheets and comforter were one thing but the curtains offered a big slash of color, giving the room personality, making it homier and making the big room seem almost cozy.
All the room needed now was a paint job (the walls were a little tired and I thought a nice, warm, pale blue would be awesome, maybe with a terracotta accent wall); blinds (because with those dark curtains closed, it would be a blackout situation); and some pictures on the walls.
And I knew exactly what picture would be perfect.
I’d seen it through the window of one of the biker shops in town. A large frame around which was a sepia photo of two bikers riding side by side into town. There was no one on the straight road for as far as the eye could see except those bikers, they had their backs to the camera and to their side was the sign that was still there that read “Welcome to Carnal”. Even though the bikes were older, the picture taken probably decades ago, the long Main Street of Carnal lay in front of the bikers and it didn’t look much different. When I’d spied it, I’d stopped and studied it through the shop window. It was awesome and it would be perfect over Tate’s bed.
Buster pranced in and jumped up on the bed. She stood there, blinking at me, her tail swishing then she blinked at the curtains at the window facing the bed that had a view out the front of the house. Then she collapsed on a flank, stretched out her other flank and delicately licked her foot.
I decided to take that as approval.
Tate sauntered in.
“They look great,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he agreed, coming to stand by me.
I twisted my head to look up at him. “Now you need some venetian blinds,” I informed him. “Just in case you don’t want blackout conditions but still want to mute the light.”
He looked down at me then he curved an arm around my shoulders and began to curl my body to his.
When my front was pressed to his, he stated, “I’ll get right on that, Ace, soon’s I pay off the million dollar lawyer’s bills I’ll be accumulatin’ in order to get Jonas.”
I bit my lip because I hadn’t thought of that. He’d spoken several times about his money situation. He had a son to win; he didn’t need to be buying home wares.
“Captain –” I started but Tate had turned me and was moving forward, pushing me backward toward the bed. I felt my legs hit it, Buster jumped away, I went down and Tate came down on top of me.
His face went into my neck and he declared, “Rods are up. Time for you to be friendly.” Then I felt his tongue slide along my neck.
My arms circled him, the fingers of one hand going into his hair as I turned my head to say in his ear, “Cake’s in the oven, honey.”
His head came up and he looked at me. “How long we got?”
I shrugged, my shoulders moving on the bed. “Ten minutes?”
His mouth came to mine. “Time enough to start bein’ friendly.”
“Tate –”
“Then you can finish bein’ friendly later.”
“Tate –”
He kissed me and I instantly got friendly, so did he. I thought he was friendlier than me but he might have been able to argue that.
We got so friendly, we were both shirtless by the time the buzzer on the oven interrupted our friendliness.
“Cake’s done,” I breathed against his mouth as I shivered when his hands slid lazily along the skin of my sides.
“Yeah,” he whispered then knifed up.
I’d moved on top and therefore automatically straddled him. He lifted us both up from the bed, putting me on my feet. I started to pull away to bend and get my shirt but his hands at my hips turned me and then they guided me to the door.