Eli’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that.”
I flushed from the intensity of his enthusiasm. “Would an Irish stew be okay? I’ve been dying to make one ever since I got to Frazier Falls”
“That sounds amazing. Do you have all the ingredients? I know a pretty great biscuit recipe.”
I searched through the bags until I located the fresh produce. I had carrots and red potatoes and onions and fresh thyme. “I do. Do you mind if I use your phone to call my mom? She’ll be getting worried.”
“Of course not. The landline is down the hall, and there are a couple phone chargers in the drawer below it. You can see if one of those fits your cell.”
He was back to rescuing me, sheltering me, saving me. He seemed to do that a lot. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
After assuring my mom that I was okay and telling her that there were leftovers in the fridge for her to heat up, I removed my shoes and jacket and left them by the front door, before sneaking around to find a bathroom. When I did, I used the mirror to inspect my reflection and tried to fix my hair. I risked rummaging through Eli’s medicine cabinet and found a comb. I gave myself a quick brush-through before fluffing it up.
Content with the fact that I looked the best I could, given the circumstances, I wandered back to Eli’s kitchen, with my heart hammering too quickly inside my chest.
The air already smelled delicious with hints of onion and spices.
He glanced up at me from the chopping board, where he was cutting up fresh carrots into bite-sized chunks. A suspicious look danced across his face. “That took a while.”
I smiled bashfully. “I may have used your bathroom and your comb.”
“I was wondering how your hair suddenly looked flawless.” He waved me over. “Can you take over cutting the vegetables? I’ll prep the lamb.”
“Of course.”
The next thirty minutes were filled with the sounds and smells of a kitchen in use. My stomach growled louder with every passing minute. The stew promised to be the tastiest meal I’d had in a month. I knew it would be worth the wait.
When Eli brought out a bag of flour and chopped butter into small pieces, throwing them into a bowl with salt and spices, I was curious.
“What are you making?”
“The biscuits. They’re great with stew but also with white gravy and scrambled eggs for breakfast.”
“Okay, color me impressed. I didn’t know you went so far with your cooking.”
He laughed. “I like to cook.”
“Me too.”
“What a happy coincidence.”
Once the first batch was cooked, I couldn’t help but steal one and slather it with butter and a drizzle of the honey Eli kept on the counter.
“There won’t be any left for our plates at this rate,” he complained, but he was grinning at me standing there with puffy, food-filled cheeks.
“These are so good. Ridiculously good, Eli. Where did you learn to make them?” I asked around a mouthful of food.
He shrugged. “My mom made them every weekend. I paid attention because there’s nothing as satisfying as a biscuit straight out of the oven.”
“That’s a lot of effort to go to for yourself.”
“Nah, my brothers like it when I cook them too. I usually make a massive batch in one shot for them to devour.”
I snuck around behind him to reach the fridge; our bodies barely brushing against each other as I did. Eli stiffened immediately, and I saw his hand twitch in my direction, but then he relaxed and let it fall to his side.
Disappointment seized me. Suppressing a sigh, I rummaged through the refrigerator, looking for something wet. “Do you have anything to drink that isn’t beer? Preferably alcoholic.”
My breath hitched when Eli leaned over me in order to reach a well-hidden bottle of white wine.
“Will this do?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur against my ear.
My face heated like it was on fire, and I suddenly became acutely aware that I had lost my ability to speak. I nodded, not trusting my voice one bit. My heart hammered like a drum. It was strong and loud enough that I was sure Eli could hear its cadence.
When he snaked his arm around my waist, I gasped in surprise, but all he did was pull me away from the refrigerator in order to close it.
“No point in wasting the central heating by letting all that cold air out.”
I turned around to look at him closely. By the pulse of the vein on his forehead, I could tell his heart was beating as quickly as mine.
“Are you nervous?” I bit out, keeping my eyes locked on his.
The creases deepened as he smiled. “Yes. Though not as nervous as you, it seems.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “This is ridiculous. I feel like I’m sixteen again.”
“I feel much the same way. Except sixteen-year-old me didn’t know how to cook.” He pulled away from me to check on the stew, which was bubbling away on the stove. “I think that’s done.”
He leaned back in, his face mere millimeters away from my own. I found myself holding my breath, hoping he’d kiss me.
“How about we pick this up after dinner, Flanagan?”
It was a brazen request I wholeheartedly wanted to explore. I brushed the fingers of my left hand against the side of Eli’s jeans as I moved away to locate two wine glasses. I glanced back at him over my shoulder and smirked.
“Sounds like dessert to me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Eli
The stew Emily and I made was one of the most satisfying meals I’d had in a long time. We didn’t bother sitting at my dining room table. Instead, we curled up on the sofa to eat while half-watching an action film that was forgotten once it was finished.
We worked our way through the bottle of wine I’d found in the fridge. By the time we were full, we were also pleasantly tipsy.
My house hadn’t experienced this much excitement since I’d moved in, and all we’d done was cook and eat dinner. I thought of the incredibly sexually charged moment Emily and I had shared in the kitchen as I stole a glance of her beside me. It sent a quiver down my spine, leaving me pleasantly aroused.
Below my stomach, my insides coiled and unraveled when Emily ran a hand through her fiery red hair. I wanted nothing more than to run my own hands through it. To sweep it away from her face and pin her down with it. I wanted to wrench open the buttons of her oversized flannel shirt, to—
“Eli?”
Emily looked at me with a quizzical expression.
I laughed slightly. “Sorry. What’s up?”
“What are you thinking about?”
I paused, moving away from the sofa in order to prod at the fire I’d built. It needed more fuel, but I didn’t have it in me to leave the warm confines of my house to get wood from the shed.
I gave Emily a mischievous smile as I sat back down beside her, then took a long drink of wine.
“I’m not entirely sure it’s safe for polite conversation,” I replied. A wickedly sexy thought made me smile.
Emily’s eyes widened. “Now, I need to know.”
I paused for a moment, considering what to say. I put down my glass and cocked my head to one side.