“You’re lucky Carter texted me. I almost called the cops.”
Remy? I bit my tongue before I could say his name. That’s not what this was about. My petty jealousies needed to be boxed and shoved under a bed located roughly in Timbuktu.
“Surprise.” I dried my hands and arms.
“Hi, beautiful,” Tristan purred.
I cut a glance to him, but the shit didn’t seem to care. He kept on smoldering at her like a goddamn cat in heat. Whore that he was.
I tucked the towel into my back pocket. “We thought we’d cook for you.”
She gnawed on her lower lip. I’d never wanted to be a little piece of flesh in my life until just then. I remembered when she bit on me like that. The little nips, the sweet swipe of her tongue, the sigh of her breath just as she kissed me.
God, I missed her.
She dropped her briefcase in a chair next to the door and crouched down for the dog. Sammy whined and licked her face as she poured affection on him. When he was satisfied, he wandered back over to us looking for scraps.
She crossed her arms over her middle. “It smells divine.”
“I stole one of your bottles of white,” Tristan said and licked off a bit of cream sauce from his thumb.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Tristan went back to stirring. “If you mean risotto, then yes.”
She groaned.
Before I did something stupid, like push her up against the wall and hear that purr in my ear as I attacked her neck, I took out my frustrations on a stack of pots.
“So, why exactly are you guys in my house?”
Tristan wiped his hands on his towel. “We’re cooking you a truly stupendous meal, darlin’.”
“I see that. How did you convince Carter to let you in? Mind you, your answer will decide just how much punishment I’ll inflict on him.”
I turned around at the sink, suds dissolving around my wrists. Christ, she was stunning. She’d shucked her jacket leaving her creamy shoulders bare. Her dress was completely modest, and still I wanted to blindfold Tristan. Especially since he couldn’t quite stop himself from checking her out every three minutes.
Asshole was going to burn the rice, then I was going to have to beat him unconscious.
“Carter decided that this idiot needed to further his wooing skills. I aim to complete that particular character flaw with filet mignon crostini with a lovely rosemary pesto, and salmon and shiitake mushrooms over risotto.”
“All right. I’ll let you stay until you’re done.” She poured a glass of the wine that Tris had opened. “It’s only polite.”
“That’s what I like about her, Jordan. She’s a class act.”
“Watch it,” I growled.
“What? I’m being completely serious.” His smirky mouth lifted at the corner. “I was just telling my boy here that I’d chase you myself.”
“You’d be chasing your own tail, Mr. Eves.”
“Tristan, please. If I’ve used your cooktop—not bad for a home set up, by the way—then the least we can do is use first names.”
“The chef grade stove and oven was here when I moved in.”
Tristan lifted his own glass. “Cheers to that.”
She lifted her glass and sipped, but her gaze strayed to me.
My throat went dry and I turned back to my work. I could feel her eyes on my back and I was very thankful I had an apron on as well. I missed touching her, and I definitely missed curling her under me in the night. Even just to wrap myself around her. She fit perfectly against me. I’d never been the guy to want a woman wrapped around me at night.
At least until Kenny.
Now, it didn’t matter what size my bed was, it was too empty without her.
“I don’t think you can scrub steel off, but you’re giving it a try.”
“What?”
Tristan nodded to the sauce pan I was trying to put a hole in.
“Right.” I rinsed it and shut off the water.
“Think you can manage to sear the filet?”
“Yes.” I definitely needed manual tasks. They required concentration and me not staring at the curve of Kenny’s neck and collarbone. And it certainly would deter me from looking for the smattering of freckles at her nape. I’d counted them. Fourteen of them in a cinnamon color.
I turned the heat on the cast iron skillet to get it ready and seasoned the meat. All the while, Kenny walked around the kitchen, the click of her heels making me insane.
I was supposed to be charming, not a mute.
Instead, she and Tristan were chatting amicably.
Not exactly the best first impression after two weeks. Growling at one of my closest friends for talking to my girl would not help my cause.
“Can I see how you make the risotto?” she asked.