Page 41 of Promising You
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When we get backto Frank’s house, Ryan’s already gone and Frank is sleeping. Garret and I start on dinner. He insists on making the chili, so I work on the cornbread.
“Is this some secret recipe?” I ask as I watch him add spices to the pot.
“Yeah, and I’m not telling you what’s in it, so stop looking over my shoulder.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
He sets the spices down and turns to me. “Because once you taste this chili you’ll want it again and again. And the only way you’ll have it again is if I make it. It’s another way for me to make sure you keep me around.”
I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “You don’t need chili for that. What you did before we got here makes me want to keep you around.”
“So you’re just using me for sex?”
“Pretty much.” I let go of him and turn toward the fridge.
He grabs me around the waist, hauling my backside against him and talking softly by my ear. “How is it possible that just being in here cooking with you is totally turning me on?”
“You, too? I thought it was just me.”
His hands move where they shouldn’t, making my legs so weak that I practically melt into him as he holds me.
“We’re not doing it in this house, Garret,” I say, breathless.
“I know. So stay with me tonight.” He moves my hair aside and kisses the side of my neck.
I force my legs to work again and turn to face him. “I want to, but I really need to be here with Frank.”
“It’s just overnight. Frank will be asleep. He won’t care if you’re gone while he’s asleep. I’ll make sure you’re back here first thing in the morning.”
“It’s tempting, but I still think I should stay here.”
He sighs and returns to the stove. “Okay. But you need to keep away from me because you’re driving me crazy. And stop rubbing up against me every time you walk by.”
“It’s a small kitchen. I can’t help it.” I go over to the stove and reach in front of him for the salt shaker, causing my butt to brush against his jeans.
He backs away. “Jade?”
“What? I need the salt.”
“You’re evil.” He watches me as I go to the fridge and grab a couple eggs and the carton of milk and bring them to the kitchen table where I’m making the cornbread.
Garret turns away from the stove and leans back against the counter across from me. “We should do this more often.”
“Do what more often?” I pull on each side of the plastic bag that contains the cornbread mix but it refuses to open. I tighten my grip on it and pull even harder.
“Cook together.” Garret comes over and takes the bag from me, opening it without any effort at all.
I look at the bag, annoyed. “We don’t have a kitchen.”
“So let’s get one.”
“I don’t know what that means.” I dump the mix in a bowl and add the milk and eggs.
“Let’s get an apartment.”
“So we can cook together?” I stir the cornbread, not really paying attention to what he’s saying.
