It was all of two minutes before my phone was ringing in my hand.
"Cash was just there, wasn't he?" she asked immediately, sounding amused.
"What? I didn't say that."
"You didn't need to," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "That is exactly what he says to my mom when he wants her to cook dinner. He thinks he's so slick, but Mom has had his number for years."
'Yeah? How come she never says anything?"
"Because she likes to cook for him."
"Yeah? Think maybe you'd like to cook for me, doll?"
"I think I can manage that. If you, you know, go out and buy some things to cook with. And plates to eat food off of."
"This is sounding like more work for me than you, doll," I teased.
"I think you can manage. I'll get there around seven. I will send you a PDF with a list of things to pick up."
"Of course you will," I said, smiling like a fucking idiot all alone on my front porch.
Not five minutes later, I had a PDF in my inbox with a list that made me wonder if I would need to attach a trailer hitch to the Uber I was already going to need since I couldn't cart anything around on my bike.
By seven, I had everything home, unpackaged, and washed--as per my instructions--and even went ahead and did some house cleaning.
I could feel anticipation bubbling up when I heard the crunch of her tires on the driveway.
Before I could even slip some shoes back on, she was pushing open the door, her reusable bags dangling off her arms.
"I am going to need to take a few minutes to clean the kitch--" she started, trailing off. "Did you... did you clean the kitchen?" she asked, eyes round.
"I did. With soap and everything," I told her, rocking back on my heels. "And I made the table," I told her, sweeping an arm across it.
"Okay. We are going to pretend that the tablecloth doesn't have drunken leprechauns on it," she said, smiling.
"They're excited for our meal too."
"You're ridiculous."
"You love it," I shot back.
To that, she gave me one of her sweet smiles as she pushed past.
"Wait wait wait, I got you something," I said as she started unpacking her bags. "An apron," I told her. "I figure we have to work our way up to you cooking bare-ass naked in heels."
"Please tell me it doesn't match the tablecloth," she said, cringing.
"No much better," I told her, grabbing it from the hook by the door, turning it to face her.
"Oh, my God," she groaned, but laughed at the same time.
"Well, it's the next best thing to you actually being naked," I said, looking down at the outline of a naked woman's body print on the front. "Your tits are better though. And it doesn't have that little birth mark right by your...you know what? I am going to fix it," I decided, rummaging around for a Sharpie.
"Okay. You do that. I will try to get that image out of my head," she told me, but she was smiling while she did it.
From there, I fixed the apron that she refused to wear because she was 'already in the middle of cooking,' and went ahead and sat back to watch.
She cooked like she did most things. With practiced efficiency, with certainty. There was no standing around wondering what spices she was going to use or what temperature to put the oven at.
"What are you making?" I asked about half an hour into the process, sitting back and enjoying the view of her round ass as she leaned forward to put something into the oven.
"Which course?"
Shit.
I had me a woman who cooked courses.
I didn't do shit in my life to deserve all this goodness, but I was damn sure going to appreciate every bit of it.
"All of 'em, princess, all of 'em."
"Alright, well. We are starting with some bruschetta."
"Sounds great."
"And then we are having chicken parmigiana with linguine and garlic knots on the side."
"You're the perfect woman."
To that, her cheeks went a little pink.
"Do you know how to cook?" she asked, wanting to change the topic.
"I can grill," I told her. "You can't grow up 'round where I grew up and not learn how to man a grill and grunt over a car engine like you know what you are looking at."
"Next time, you man the grill, and I will cook the sides. Maybe we can have Ferryn and Vance over."
Getting those couple vibes going.
I never would have thought I would look forward to something like that. But there was no denying I was into this.
Into her.
More than I could have ever known I would be.
Just when I thought I had hit peak excitement over this whole thing, she would do or say something else and I would be proven wrong.
"What's that look for?" she asked, head ducked toward her shoulder. "And no charming answers. I want the truth," she specified, knowing me too well.
"Just realizing how much better my life is with you around, angel."
I'd seen this woman turn to mush a few times since she rescued me.
First, and maybe most strongly, that first night in bed.
But in many little moments since then.
It never got old.
I hoped she never stopped doing it.
And I hoped I never stopped appreciating it.
"I hope it goes unsaid, but I want to say it, that I feel the same about you."
Her gaze skittered away, still a little uncomfortable with the deep feeling stuff.
"Alright. Enough talking. Get back to making your man some dinner," I demanded, getting a dishtowel tossed at me before she turned and started doing some chopping.
About an hour later, I was damn near ready to drop down on my knee and ask her to marry me.
I never bought too much into the idea that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. But, yeah, I guess I'd never had a woman make me something like this before.
"Do you two need to be alone?" she asked, shooting me a smirk when I licked my fork clean.
"Feeling a little jealous, dollface?" I asked, smiling. "Well, let's see what we can do about that, huh?" I said, getting up, moving around the table, going down on my knees in front of her.
"What are you doing?"
She knew what I was doing.
And, what's more, she was already ready for it.
It was impressive how easily she went from perfectly uninterested to completely turned on.
Ever since that hotel, she'd been absolutely ravenous, eager to make up for lost time.
And me, well, I had been happy to keep her satisfied.
It had been unexpectedly rewarding to watch her come into her own, to experience her whole-hearted trust in me, to see her reclaiming her body, learning new things about it.
My hands moved upward, working her button and zipper free, urging her up onto her feet, shimmying her pants and panties down her thighs, turning her, pressing her to sit back on the edge of the table, bracing her arms behind her, her legs spreading automatically for me.
My teeth nipped her knee, getting a laugh out of her before slipping inward slightly, pressing my lips up her inner thigh.
Then higher still, my tongue slipping out, tracing the crease of her thigh, feeling her heat.