“I’d drive up there to get you some more,” he said, filling his glass with water from the tap.
Her throat closed, and she stirred the fries quickly, trying not to analyze the funny feeling in her heart. When the fries were done, she grabbed a potholder and took them out and set them on the granite countertop. Blake reached a hand out playfully, watching her face, waiting to see if she would slap it away—an old game they played. He would order a salad or veggies and steal some of her French fries. She let him have a couple, and his grin spread as he popped them into his mouth.
“Never imagined anything could taste so good.”
Hmm…that was a euphemism if she’d ever heard one. “Are you planning to succumb to the food dark side now that you’ve left football?” she asked before she thought better of it.
His grin faded, and she could tell he had to force a smile to return to his face. “Some would say I have to be even more careful now that I’m not burning five to six thousand calories a day.”
That number had always boggled her mind. She was lucky to burn two thousand in her most strenuous workouts.
“Like you’d ever get fat,” she said.
“Your mom said the same thing.” He finally set his take-out bag on the counter, like he’d only just decided she would let him stay. “She visited me today. I wanted you to know.”
She ate a French fry, hoping it would counterbalance the bitterness in her mouth. It didn’t completely. She scooped the fries onto a plate and claimed her burger from the insulated compartment in the basket.
“I had them keep the bun separate so it wouldn’t get soggy on the bottom. I know how you hate that.”
That familiar intimacy with him was weaving itself around her. Dangerous and yet tantalizing. “Thanks.”
She handed him a plate, and he unwrapped his Cuban. Sure enough, he had paired it with the spinach and pear salad, which was delicious, and their roasted beets with pistachios.
“I thought we could watch the first episode while we eat,” she said as she finished assembling the burger on her plate.
“Sure. Is the silverware where you always kept it?”
She paused for a moment, feeling tension settle between her shoulder blades. “Yes.”
He pulled open the cabinet to the right of the sink and procured two sets for them. “Can I grab anything else for you?” he asked, picking up her plate and his own, balancing his water in the crook of his massive arm.
God, the bulge of muscle there made her want to trace the angles and curves all the way to his shoulder.
“No. I’ll just…put the milkshake in the freezer.” Put myself in the freezer. “I’ll probably only drink half of it anyway. Since you brought the caramel apple.” God, she was going to be sick after all this sugar.
“I’d be impressed if you could manage both. Can Touchdown sit on your couch while we eat?”
The dog barked, hearing his name. They’d had a power pull over that in the early days of their marriage. She hated having dog hair on their expensive cream-upholstered sofa, but Blake loved to watch game tape with Touchdown on his lap. Ultimately, she was the one who’d caved, though she’d insisted he take over vacuuming the couch, which he’d done. Sometimes. Unless he let the cleaning lady do it.
“Ah…he can sit on it.”
So far she’d kept him off the couch, but tonight was different. If Touchdown sat next to Blake, she wouldn’t have to sit next to him. It was going to be hard enough to keep her eyes off his freaking gorgeous legs. No one had better legs than Blake, not even Beyonce. His massive thighs were thick with muscle, making his legs a portrait of angles and ridges designed to inflame the senses. His legs had been her downfall, and the khaki shorts he was wearing did nothing to hide their masculine beauty.
She followed them into the den after grabbing a glass of red wine and some water. When she reached the couch, she discovered Blake had already outfoxed her. Touchdown sat on his right, leaving the middle seat for her. She set her glasses down on the teak coffee table and laid out the red napkins she’d tucked under her arm.
“I wasn’t sure how to run your entertainment center.”
She turned everything on, then put the disc in and hit play for the first episode. After settling back onto the couch, she picked up her hamburger and bit in, unable to contain a moan.
“Glad you like it,” he said, laughter in his voice. “I always loved how much you enjoy food.”
More dangerous territory. She didn’t need him telling her all the things he used to love about her. “How’s the sandwich?”
“As good as I remembered. Feel free to have some salad or beets.”
“You’re only saying that so you can steal more French fries.”
He plucked one off her plate with a grin. “Only a few.”