“What the hell kind of s’mores are you going to make with this stuff?” Jackson asked, peeking into the grocery bag I’d asked him to carry outside.
“The best s’mores you’ve ever eaten,” I answered over my shoulder with a wink.
He looked doubtful, but by the end of the night, I would prove him wrong after watching him cram at least four of these in his mouth.
Not all s’mores were created equal.
We’d decided to end our perfect weekend by making dinner on the grill and finishing with dessert outside. Among its endless amenities, this house also came equipped with a fire pit, which was perfect for roasting marshmallows.
After Jackson set down the bag of groceries I’d gone out and purchased hours earlier, I began pulling out the various ingredients, including homemade graham crackers from a local bakery down the street along with a selection of chocolate I’d found at a candy store. The owner of the candy store and I had chatted for nearly fifteen minutes on the importance of fresh and basic ingredients, and it really showed in her products.
The only thing I’d had to settle on were the marshmallows. I couldn’t find those locally made anywhere, so I’d gone for the regular store brand for those.
We all began sticking our puffy white marshmallows on our metal sticks.
“Black or brown?” Jackson asked.
“Pardon?”
“Do you like your marshmallows roasted a lot or a little? I personally like mine black.”
“I do, too. Charred on the outside, gooey on the inside. Perfect. How about you, Noah?”
“I like them light brown.”
“He’s a bit of a snob. It can’t be too overdone, or he’ll give it to me. When he was little, I ended up with a lot of his rejects.”
“I’m sure that was hard for you.” I laughed.
“Terrible,” he agreed. “He’s got it down to a science now though.”
Jackson and I worked on turning our marshmallows into charcoal while Noah became a boy of precision. He placed it above the fire, not too close and not too far, and he would time how many seconds each side was exposed.
“Wow, that’s fascinating,” I commented as I watched him.
“He could be here all night.” Jackson grinned.
We each took out two graham crackers and a hunk of chocolate, and we assembled our s’mores, placing our thoroughly cooked marshmallows in between the two crackers. I waited for Jackson to take his first bite.
He brought the s’more to his mouth and bit down, and then a groan escaped his lips. “Mmm…that’s good.”
That groan froze me in place. I was mesmerized and intoxicated by it.
Is that what he sounds like in bed? I really wanted to know.
“Liv? You still there?”
I realized my eyes had glazed over while transfixed on his mouth. “I’m good,” I answered, remembering our present company.
He grinned, obviously knowing he’d had an effect on me.
This morning, I’d been flipped on my ass, and I’d found myself submerged in lake water.
Tonight, I wanted to flip him on his ass, and yeah, I was still the one who was wet.
Liv
Ever since little Asher had come into our lives, Mia’s need to nurture had grown tenfold. When she’d heard the news of my unfortunate incident with Victor the week before, trying to keep her from freaking out and practically moving in with me had been a challenge.
After I’d talked her out of bringing me dinners, I had finally settled on allowing her to bring me lunch. I hadn’t lost a family member, so casseroles were unnecessary. But when occasionally running late in the mornings, I’d forget to pack a lunch. If bringing me food would help ease her mind, then she could certainly help with my rushed mornings.
Right on time, like every day since I’d come back to work, Mia waltzed into my office at noon, carrying a bag of food in one hand and Asher in the other. Garrett was following close behind with a look on his face that made me laugh out loud.
“You look lost, Garrett,” I said, commenting on his bewildered expression.
“I’m just wondering why she always insists on carrying everything when I’m standing right here.” He raised his hands in mock frustration and shook his head.
Mia turned around and placed a chaste kiss on his nose. He returned the endearment with one of his own—a lingering kiss on the forehead. Asher watched the entire interaction between his parents with immense fascination as bubbles sprung from his tiny pink lips.
“I’m sorry, Garrett. I didn’t mean to insult your manhood. Here. Would you like to carry the lunch bag?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
He took the bag from her outstretched hand and moved past her, swatting her ass as he did so. She yelped and giggled in response.
He approached me while I leaned against the doorframe of my office. “We brought burritos from that place you like down the street. Hope that’s okay.”
“Did you get extra veggies?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in question.
“Yep, sure did.”