Watching his ass push out, filling his jeans temptingly, it was hard to stay focused on the conversation. Why talk about groceries when there were other, more tempting things to eat? “I like Italian.”
He straightened, glancing at me as he took something that looked like a blender over to the cabinet. “Let me guess, lasagna?”
I was in love.
“Yes.” I gave him my best, I’m-so-innocent smile. “I like lasagna.”
He just laughed. “You don’t look as innocent as you think you do. But yes, I’ll make you lasagna. We need to get some tomatoes if I’m going to make the sauce, though.”
“Doesn’t sauce come in jars?” Why in the world would he make it?
I was serious, but he grabbed his heart dramatically like he was having the TV version of a heart attack. “That’s a horrible thing to say to someone!”
“So, I shouldn’t tell you that I have one that’s frozen and just needs to be popped in the oven? Those little plastic trays they come in are handy.” His nose scrunched up like he’d smelled milk that had gone bad before I’d even finished.
“Absolutely not.” Reece started emptying out boxes faster. “That’s not going to work at all. Yes, big grocery shopping trip it is.”
I wondered what he’d cook me if I told him I’d eaten out most of the week. “You know, it’s been years since I had fried chicken that didn’t come from a drive-thru.”
Laughing, Reece started shaking his head. “You’re terrible.”
I grinned and straightened. “Is it going to get me fried chicken?”
“Maybe.” His smile said yes, so I ignored his verbal answer—I was going to get fried chicken.
And I was going to have to go to the gym a lot more often. Moving toward the boxes, I looked around. “I might not be able to cook, but I can help unload. And I’m going to help pay for the groceries. It’s only fair.”
“I’m going to let you, because I have a feeling you’re going to keep me hopping in the kitchen. Next thing you know, it will be cheesecake this and homemade bread that.” He squatted down distractedly and reached into the box to hand me something that looked like a cheese grater on steroids. “Will you put this over in that cabinet?”
I took the contraption but gave him a long look before I started to walk toward the shelf. “Homemade bread?”
“You’re going to be a handful, I just know it.”
I might be a handful, but if anyone was going to be driven crazy, it was me.
