“Hey, yourself,” he said when he’d unstuck his tongue at the tempting picture.
She opened the door and motioned for him to go inside.
The modest living room was decorated in such non-Gayle colors it took him by surprise. “White walls and beige furniture doesn’t seem to fit you.”
The house didn’t have a Gayle feeling at all. No pictures on the wall. No personality. Even the throw rug on the deep cherry wood floor was just a boring mixture of neutral colors.
A chuckle sounded behind him. “Decorating is overrated.” She pointed to her left to another room. “That’s a bonus room. I spend more time in there than I do in here.”
He craned his neck to peer inside. Laptops and a lot of unfamiliar equipment. “Like a work space?”
“Yeah. I really only use the living room when I have Skylar here or watch a movie.” She motioned to the stairs. “Of course that’s the upstairs. Two bedrooms and a full bath up there.” As she walked through the living room, she pointed to a door on the left. “There’s a half bath down here. This is a much smaller place than Lance’s.” She disappeared through a doorway at the back of the living room. “And this is the kitchen.”
Now, this wasn’t so bad. The room still didn’t have a sense of Gayle at all, but he loved the polished wood walls and floor. Very rustic. The actual kitchen wasn’t huge, just a U-shaped setup with a limited amount of counter space. The stove was positioned so when he cooked, he could still converse with someone seated at the table. He placed his bags on the counter.
“I’m starving. What are we having?”
“Baked courgette and wild mushroom risotto.”
The blank expression she gave him had him coughing into his fist to cover a laugh. The woman had no idea what the hell that was.
“Um. Sounds delish.”
“It won’t take me long. I’ve precooked everything except the risotto.”
“Well get to it, handsome. That chili didn’t stay with me long. I’m famished.”
“Can’t have that.”
After she showed him where the cookware was, he went to work heating the chicken stock in a pan, then warming olive oil in another pan. He added the arborio rice with a splash of white wine. While he waited for it to bubble, he was aware of Gayle watching him from the far end of the counter. It’d been a long time since he’d cooked for a woman, and he found he still enjoyed it.
“You know your way around a kitchen,” she mused.
“I should. I used to be a chef.”
A moment of silence followed. He glanced over at her. She was standing up straight instead of leaning against the edge of the counter. She shook her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Used to be head chef at Tuscany in Kansas City.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s, like, the most expensive restaurant in Missouri.”
“Uh, yeah, I know.” He chuckled at her dumfounded expression.
She snapped her mouth shut, then shook her head again. Holy shit. Gayle Matthews was actually speechless. He never thought he’d see the day.
“And you let me feed you my cooking?” She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “And it was cold. I’m horrified.”
“If you’ll remember, the cold part was my fault.” He added the heated stock to the rice. “And even cold, the chicken you made was lovely.”
She grimaced. “Yeah, it really compares to the blah-blee-blue you’re cooking.”
Laughter shot out his mouth. “Courgette and wild mushroom risotto.”
“Like I said, blah-blee-blue.” She shrugged. “Okay, shock worn off. I’m going to eat this up for all it’s worth, and considering how expensive that damn restaurant is, I know how much this dinner is worth.”
The grin wouldn’t leave his lips as he sautéed the mushrooms. Once he had them completed, he added it to the risotto and sprinkled in the parmesan. He then divided the meal onto two plates, turned, and held one out to her. “Bon appétit.”
“This looks amazing.”
And suddenly he was very self-conscious. He wanted her to enjoy it, but what if she didn’t? He didn’t cook much anymore. Just on occasion, like when he’d helped Tommy with Julie. What if he added too much wine or sea salt? “I’m a little rusty. So I hope it’s good.”
The smile she sent him eased his worries. “This is going to be the best blah-blee-blue I’ve ever had.”
She took the plate and sat down at the wooden kitchen table. He took the chair across from her, watching as she dipped her spoon in and took a bite. Her eyes closed and a low moan came from her.
“Now I am truly horrified you ate my chicken.”
Relief had him releasing a breath. “Glad you like it.”
They ate in silence, mostly because Mac couldn’t concentrate on anything besides watching Gayle enjoy his food—which she did with the same relish that she lived life. Each bite came with a cock-hardening moan of appreciation and mumbled words of praise. Would she be just as vocal in bed? The idea made him shift in his seat.