“Come on; you can help me unwrap the food.”
My mood is immediately lifted. She said the magic word.
“So, Jared tells me you’re a chef?” I ask as I start removing the plastic wrap from the trays and trays of food loaded onto the dining room table.
My mouth waters at the sight and smell of some of them. There are all sorts of posh nibbles on offer, not just your basic sausage rolls and cheese and pineapple on a stick (though those are there too). There are assorted sliced cooked meats and sandwiches, antipasti, various flavours of chicken skewer, dips, sliced breads, cheeses. It all looks homemade. I’m in heaven.
“I am. I love to cook. Do you?” she asks.
I scrunch my nose and shake my head. “I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”
The next tray I unwrap contains some sort of bacon-wrapped potato bites, and a little groan of desire slips from my mouth. Just as I’m wondering if it’s impolite to start eating them, Deborah pops a honey-glazed sausage in her mouth and winks at me.
I follow suit and eat a potato bite. My eyes drop closed as the flavour explodes on my tongue. “Oh God, this is amazing. Deborah, you are officially my new hero.”
She chuckles, her eyes glowing with pride. “You know, you’re probably not a disaster. Maybe you’ve just been cooking the wrong things,” she suggests. “We should exchange numbers. I have lots of simple, easy recipes. I could WhatsApp them to you.”
She raises one eyebrow in question, and I nod enthusiastically.
“That would be great. Can I have the recipe for this?” I ask, picking up another bacon-potato thing, which is like an orgasm in the mouth.
She smiles and nods.
People are starting to crowd around us now, eagerly picking over the food. I’m jostled as an uncle reaches over and grabs a handful of pork belly skewers.
“Come with me, Amy,” Deborah says, nodding behind her.
I follow her into the kitchen, watching quizzically as she digs in a drawer.
When she finds what she’s looking for—a pen and paper—she smiles and hands it to me. “Here, put your number on there.”
I do as I was told, jotting my mobile number down.
She’s watching me, her head cocked to the side, her eyes shining with affection. “You know, you’re not Jared’s usual type,” she says as she pockets my number.
I frown, unsure if that’s a bad thing or a good thing. “Oh, really? What’s Jared’s usual type?”
We haven’t really discussed exes, only in passing when he told me his last girlfriend was more interested in his money than him.
Deborah scrunches her nose in distaste before quickly catching herself and schooling her expression. I feel my affection for her grow even more. “I’ve only met two of his previous girlfriends, neither of whom I liked very much. Both of them were tall, leggy, bimbo types with not very much personality.”
I frown down at my very much not tall and leggy self.
Deborah must catch my expression because she steps closer to me and laughs, setting her hand on my arm, squeezing reassuringly. “Don’t worry; I can tell by the lingering looks he gives you that he’s very happy with the length of your legs,” she says playfully.
I feel my cheeks warm and drop my eyes to the floor, my insides squirming with both pride and unease at this conversation. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’ll be honest; you’re more the type of girl my Theo would bring home. If you’d arrived with the both of them and I didn’t know who you had come with, I would have bet my life on it that you were with Theo. He always goes for lovely, happy, chatty girls like you.” She reaches out and cups my cheek with one hand.
Her words hit me like a punch to the chest because Theo was my usual type of guy too, not Jared. I don’t have time to expand on that thought though because Jared sticks his head around the door.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. You’re not talking about me in here, are you?” he asks, smirking at me as he steps into the kitchen.
I teasingly raise one eyebrow. “Yes. Are your ears burning?”
He grins and waves a hand towards his mother as he steps to my side. “Don’t believe a single thing this woman tells you. She lies.”
“Cheeky.” Deborah laughs and swats him on the back as she heads out of the room. “Don’t be too long in here, you two.” She winks at me over her shoulder and pulls the door closed behind her.
“She likes you,” Jared says as soon as we’re alone. A proud smile twitches at his lips, and he steps closer, his eyes wandering my face in such a way that my insides quiver with anticipation. “They all like you. My aunt Theresa wants to keep you forever. I said I’d have to see what I could do.” His finger traces across my cheek and follows the line of my jaw achingly slowly.
When he presses against me, one arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against him, I can feel every hard inch of him, every coiled muscle, every bit of his power and strength. His eyes meet mine, and I’m so lost that I even forget to breathe. When he dips his head and captures my lips in a kiss, I soften against him. My hands go to his chest, sliding upwards until they rest on his shoulders as his teeth give a gentle scrape across my bottom lip. I whimper into his mouth as my lips part, and his tongue sensuously caresses mine. His hands slide down to my bum, squeezing before tickling their way down my outer thigh, sending ripples of desire through me so strong that I accidentally bite his lip. He chuckles but doesn’t pull back; he just trails little kisses across my cheek until he gets to my ear. I’m almost panting with desire, my fingers digging into the solid cord of muscle on his shoulders.
“We should go rejoin the party before I pick you up and fuck you against this counter.” His voice is a husky growl in my ear that sends a shot of desire to the pit of my stomach, and I can’t think of a single good reason why he shouldn’t do exactly that. “Amy, you’re so bloody hot. Sometimes, I just can’t stand it.”
I gulp and gently push him away from me, trying to get some space to calm my racing heart and raging hormones. “Jared …” It’s barely above a whisper, more like a plea, but I don’t know what I’m pleading for—for him to stop or for him to never stop.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of lust that’s settled over me as my fingers curl around his shirt, not letting him get too far away from me. He’s driving me insane.
“I just need a minute.” He blows out a big breath and steps back another step, running a hand through his hair.
My eyes instinctively drop down to his crotch. I can see how excited he is, his lust matching my own, just thankfully mine isn’t noticeable from outside, unlike his.
Our eyes meet, and we both laugh.
By the time we both calm down enough to join the party again, it’s in full swing. People are dancing and chatting, laughing and eating, scattered around the living room in large groups. Off to one side, Theo is dancing elaborately with Carys, swinging her around, and the pair of them are being generally outlandish with their crazy, over-the-top dance moves. It’s clear that Theo is the life and soul of the party and is happiest being the centre of attention. I can see now why she said he was Funcle Theo.
I can’t take my eyes off him. It’s so weird, seeing it. This is what I imagined my crush was like—the happy-go-lucky guy on the train who chatted to everyone. This is the type of guy I usually go for, the loud one who makes everyone laugh by being the clown and is happy in his own skin, outwardly confident. Seeing a guy who looks exactly like Jared being so silly and free makes it even more thrilling to witness. My skin prickles with sensation, and I rub my hand up my arm, feeling the goosebumps there.