She raised an eyebrow. “Talk?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You. Me. Dinner. Wine. Very grown-up shit.”
Sophia cocked the gun. “Put your dick away and start explaining before I redecorate my kitchen with your brains.”
I gestured toward the cutting board. “At least let me plate the food first. The conversation will go smoother with a little pilaf on the side.”
She didn’t say yes, and she didn’t lower the weapon either, but she didn’t pull the trigger. So, I grabbed two platesfrom the cabinet and started plating the food, careful to drizzle the sauce just right.
“You still haven’t answered the question,” Sophia said, her voice colder now. “You're standing butt naked inside my kitchen with your dick swinging near my stove. What exactly did you think to accomplish by coming here, doing—” she waved her hand over me, “all that?"
I placed the plates on the island, still calm, still naked, and still breathing. “I wanted to see you.”
“Wrong answer.” She placed the barrel of the gun on my forehead. “What is wrong with you? Do you think this is a game?” she asked.
"Not at all," I replied, sitting my naked ass on one of the bar stools at the island before picking up my fork. “You should really taste the food. This is some A-1 shit right here.”
“No! You seem to think because we fucked we’re friends. I told you nothing’s changed. I still hate you.”
“And if I remember correctly, I told you, ‘Bitch, this changedeverything.’”
She scoffed but didn’t move the gun. “You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
“Probably,” I said, cutting into the salmon like she wasn’t one twitch away from blowing my brains across her kitchen. “But I made peace with that a long time ago.”
She circled the island slowly, gun still trained on me. “You’re in my house, eating my food, and running your mouth like I won’t shoot you and eat the plate over your corpse.”
I nodded as I chewed. “Wouldn’t blame you. That’s how good it is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think because you showed me a good time, I’m supposed to let you slide?”
“No,” I said, setting my fork down. “I think because I showed you arealtime, you can’t decide whether to shoot me or sit down and enjoy this meal.”
“You’re arrogant,” she spat with annoyance.
“And you’re still standing here,” I replied as I yanked on her arm, forcing her into the seat beside me. “Here, take a bite of this.” I forked a nice piece of salmon and rice, then held it up to her mouth.
She stared at it like I’d lost every inch of sense I had left. The gun was still in her hand, but her finger had eased off the trigger.
“Dallas, I swear to God—”
“Swear later. Eat now.”
Her eyes cut toward me, then back to the fork, and I didn’t move an inch. Instead, I held it steady as if feeding a pissed-off queen was part of my daily routine.
Finally, she rolled her eyes, opened her mouth, and took the bite.
I grinned. “Good, right?”
She chewed like she wanted to hate it, but couldn’t. “It’s decent.”
“Decent?” I grabbed my chest. “That’s disrespectful to the salmon, and honestly, to me.”
“You broke into my home,” she said, finally setting the gun on the counter. “And cooked my food without asking.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“It is when you’re naked, uninvited, and acting like this is your house.”
