Manaconda 2: The Second Coming(18)

“I was supposed to be teaching this one, but he doesn’t have the patience to stand and stir it for the time it requires.”

“I have patience when it counts,” I muttered.

“I hope so for her sake,” Tristan said with a smirk.

Kenny grinned around the lip of her glass. She asked questions and hovered between us at the stove. Rosemary and garlic didn’t have anything on Kenny’s fresh scent. It wasn’t the usual orange blossoms I was used to—what I craved.

Today she was more of a creamy honey. I wanted to step closer to her, drag in the flavor like a good wine. Instead I checked the meat with a small digital thermometer and took it off the stove to rest.

Her attention slid to me. “Smells wonderful.”

I met her gaze. “Yes, it does.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Nope, this is all for you,” I said.

“You didn’t need to do this, Hunter.”

“I did.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said quietly.

“It will.”

She frowned over her glass, but didn’t make another comment.

It had to. I would just have to make every single thing on my list count.





7





Kennedy





Having two men in my small kitchen was overwhelming in the best of circumstances, having it include Hunter out of the blue was hell on my emotions.

Excitement, awareness, and being off-balance not withstanding, it was the relief that killed me.

That he hadn’t forgotten me.

Forgotten us.

His shoulders were tight, and his eyes wary as he moved in my space. Tristan was the exact opposite. He was all smiles and easy grace at the stove. He managed three different pans, all the while stirring the risotto.

His mohawk was tipped in lavender and highlighter yellow, his chef jacket a deep plum over jeans and steel-toed boots. Not like any chef I’d ever met, but the quirks seemed to work for him.

He and Hunter had an odd ballet to how they worked together. They never got in each other’s way, and they didn’t even have to talk. Though they did that too—mostly with insults.

I found the noise comforting, and Sammy was delighted with the audience for his antics to get a scrap of food. Hunter was an easy mark, but I caught Tristan sneaking him bits of filet as he was carving the little pieces into thin slices.

He taught Hunter how to build the little crostini things, and punched him in the arm when he was sloppy.

“You want to impress the lady, it’s all about presentation.”

Hunter licked his thumb, then held up the piece of toasted bread dripping with pesto and a piece of steak hanging off the side. “You’d eat this right?”

I tried to keep a straight face, but his face was priceless. Proud and a little put out that it wasn’t quite perfect. He started to push up the steak with his finger and Tristan slapped it away with a spoon.

“You touched it with your fingers,” he groused.

“With clean fingers. You just licked yours.”

“I did?”

I laughed. Hunter grinned back at me, dimple in full effect. He held it out to me. “It’s delicious.”

Tristan moved back to the risotto on the stovetop, giving us his back.

I leaned across the island. Hunter shook his head when I reached for the crostini. He held it up for me to bite.

Too intimate.

I wasn’t supposed to be encouraging him.

So when the pesto and bread slipped between my lips, I couldn’t help but groan. The flavors exploded on my tongue as I bit down. I made a little squeak when the meat didn’t come apart. Hunter slid his tongue along my lips and I took the rest of it in.

He watched me as he licked his thumb.

Tender and salty, my senses came alive, including the ones that had nothing to do with my taste buds. He gripped the edge of the counter as I backed up and sat down on my stool.

“Regardless of presentation, that was delicious.”

“See?” Hunter said.

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Amateur.”

Hunter laughed, and so did I. From then on it was a tag team event with Tristan and Hunter making plates, feeding me until I begged for mercy.

“I’m going to bust out of this dress if you keep it up.”

Hunter came around the table and found the tab of my zipper unerringly. “Time to leave, Tris.”

I elbowed him and he sat back down. The men had swapped out wine for barleywine after the last course. When I was pretty sure I couldn’t breathe that’s when Tristan pulled out the sticky toffee pudding.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m just making sure you can’t run.” Hunter pushed over the small dish.

I laughed. He was outrageous and charming. Watching them cook brought back all the emotions from the first time we’d met.