“What’s wrong?”
“I fried catfish and even though I set out lemon slices and small bowls of baking soda, Gray’s apartment stinks to high heaven.”
It’s quiet for a second, before her voice booms through the phone. “You fried catfish in Gray’s apartment? The same Gray Wilder who doesn’t put on a piece of clothing that hasn’t just returned from a visit to the laundry? The same man who has floors you can eat off?”
Yes. Yes. Yes. “Are you going to bust my balls or help me? He’s on his way up. How can I make the stench go away?”
“You can’t,” she answers decisively. “It’s stubborn. Goes away in its own time. That’s why most people fry fish on the back porch or out in the yard. Even then it can stink up the house if you’re not careful. That baking soda and lemon thing is just an old wives’ tale. It doesn’t really help much.”
Oh my God. “He’s almost here! What am I going to do?”
“First, calm down. Put a lid on the pot with the oil and open all the windows. Then get some grime-cutting cleaner, and wash off any splatters on the stove and around the countertop.”
I race around the apartment, following her instructions, but there’s not enough time.
“When you’re done, take out the trash. And don’t burn yourself—oil stays hot for a long time.”
“I’ve gotta go. He’s here. Thanks.” He’s here. I can’t tell if the smell has dissipated or if I’ve just gotten used to it. I am so screwed.
“Jesus, it stinks in here,” he says, before the door clicks shut. “What the hell is going on?”
My stomach turns somersaults at the sound of his voice, but I’m fresh out of time.
Before I can come up with a decent apology, Gray’s in the doorway, eyes wide and alert as they scan the kitchen. He looks like he belongs on a magazine cover, while I smell like a grease pit and probably look like one too.
“I wanted to surprise you—”
“I’m surprised,” he says, before I finish. “Maybe in the future, you could limit the surprises to exotic-smelling body lotions and lacy lingerie. Let—”
“With supper,” I say softly. “I felt like I wasn’t earning my keep, and I wanted to do something special for you.”
He doesn’t utter a word for several long seconds, and I’m dying inside, like someone who hands over a gift they spent hours selecting, and as the present is unwrapped they grow more and more uncertain about the choice.
“So what did you make?” he asks almost nonchalantly, his initial irritation replaced by genuine curiosity.
“Catfish, slaw, corn pudding, and biscuits. Tartar sauce, too.” I spit it all out in a single breath. The menu sounds ridiculous as I look at Gray in his designer suit. It’s as though I let the little girl inside out to play, and she made mud pies and expected the grownups to eat them for supper.
His features soften while I talk. “I’m starving and it sounds delicious. I love catfish.”
I’m so focused on his facial expression, I don’t really hear the words. But some part of me understands that it’s okay, and the stress rolls off my shoulders.
“Let me get out of these clothes. I’ll only be a minute. Why don’t we eat on the balcony?” he calls over his shoulder, as he strides down the hall.
He’s gone, but I nod anyway. When I turn around, I get a fresh look at the kitchen as he just saw it. What a mess. A stinky mess. I’ll clean it later, after we’re done eating.
By the time I get my bearings and put the food out, Gray’s back in shorts and a Gamecock T-shirt. I hand him a plate. “Help yourself. The fish is keeping warm in the tray.”
“This is delicious,” he says, breaking off a piece of crispy fish and popping it in his mouth.
“You’re not mad about the way it stinks in here?”
He shrugs, taking an extra spoonful of corn pudding. “It’s not often that someone I’m not paying makes me supper.” He runs his thumb over my cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs, placing a small kiss on my nose. “As for the smell, we can call one of those industrial restoration companies that people hire to clean up after a fire or flood to get the smoke and mildew out. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have a big bonfire, invite the neighbors, and toast some marshmallows for s’mores.”
My face-splitting grin turns into a laugh.
“Come here.” He uses his free hand to pull me into him.
I don’t complain because I like it here. I like the smell of him, the way his skin feels, and the sound his heart makes while he holds me against his chest. I like all of it. And if that makes me a weak woman, so be it. Life’s too short not to treat yourself now and again.
“The clearance came through today, on both ends,” he says, his chin resting on my head. “We leave in four days.” When I don’t answer, he pulls away. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’m ready.” No one is ever fully prepared, but I feel good about my chances. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that this is a pretty good way to end a long day. A good start, anyway.” His thumb caresses my breast, and I feel the low pull of desire. “But after we eat, I have something to show you. Downstairs.”
My emotions twist into a wanton curl while I run my fingers through my hair. It doesn’t matter that it’s a greasy rat’s nest. He makes me feel sexy and wanted just the same.
“Dessert’s on me,” he murmurs.
The way he says it. The raw quality in his voice. The lust on his beautiful face. I know that downstairs means the club. I’m not sure how I’ll get through dinner knowing there’s dessert waiting there.
“Let’s eat,” I say, without hiding my enthusiasm. “So we can get to dessert. You know how much I like that.”
For a second, there’s a flicker of uncertainty in Gray’s eyes, but I don’t dwell on it. Instead, I take my plate out to the balcony, confident that he’s right behind me.
25
Gray
“Do we have time to clean the kitchen before dessert?” Delilah asks when we finish eating. “Lally said not to let that grease hang around for too long. Otherwise it could be days before the smell goes away.”
Days? “You called Lally?” Just imagining their conversation makes me laugh. “I bet she got a kick out of that.”
“She was laughing so hard, she might have wet herself.” Delilah throws her head back and laughs. It’s a glorious sound.
“I’d have paid good money to be sitting in the same room as Lally while you were telling her that you fried catfish in my apartment.”
She leans over and slaps my thigh hard enough to get my full attention. I grab her wrist, and pull her onto my lap, exploring her mouth with my lips and tongue until I’ve sucked all the air from her lungs.
“Why don’t you take a shower and put on something easy to take off. I’ll call housekeeping and have them come up to clean the kitchen while we’re downstairs.”
“That doesn’t seem right.” Her brow furrows, and I smooth the lines with my thumb. “It’s a huge mess.”