Page 91 of Spicy Ever After
“Are you sure you’re glad I’m here?” she asks.
“Hell, yes.” I take a step closer, putting my grimy hand on the door next to hers, close, but not touching.
She eyes our hands and then looks back at me, wearing a disappointed frown. “Don’t I get a hug or a kiss?”
My grin splits my face. “As soon as I get cleaned u?—”
“Come. Here.” Then she’s tugging my wrist, crashing into my arms.
And my nose is in her hair and I’m crushing her against me almost as hard as she’s crushing me against her.
“God, I missed you,” she says into my chest. “Isn’t that dumb? It’s only been two days. How can I miss you so much? What’s wrong with me?”
Her words are thirst-quenching. “Not a damn thing,” I say through my laughter, hugging her tighter. “I missed you, too.”
“You did?” She squirms in my arms, pulling back just enough to face me.
And the look she’s giving me? It’s why language was invented. Why the species hasn’t died out. Why men go to war and why they broker peace.
“So much.” I place a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’d kiss you until you couldn’t stand up straight, but I’d bet my distillery that Pop’s watching from inside.”
She jerks out of my arms. “Seriously?!”
“Deadly,” I say, wincing. “And I’m going to warn you, he’s never in a very good mood, but he’s been extra pissy this week.”
She huffs. “Don’t worry. I’ve got loads of practice with Grandma Eloise.” She leans back into the Jeep. “Help me carry these inside?”
She emerges, holding out two bakery boxes. From Poupart’s.
“I couldn’t make up my mind,” she says when I take them from her. Then she reaches back into the Jeep for a full grocery bag. From Champagne’s Grocery.
Shit, this girl is way outta my league.
“I mean… I’m hungry, but it’s just us.”
She shuts the Jeep’s door. “And your dad.”
I keep my face blank. Pop knows she’s coming, and when I asked him how he felt about having lunch in his room today, as grumpy as he’s been, he had the good grace to just nod.
“I… don’t think he’s gonna join us.”
Hattie blinks. “But he needs to eat, right? I know you said you’d make omelets, but do you think he’d turn up his nose at a bacon cheddar quiche?”
“A bacon cheddar quiche?” My mouth waters. “Is that why this box is so heavy?”
She points to the box in my right hand. “That box is heavy because of the quiche, and that one,” she points to the box in my left, “is heavy because I had to get three of every kind of croissant. They just looked too good.”
“H-how many kinds were there?”
A smile blazes across her face. “Four. French, cream cheese, chocolate, and almond.”
The woman bought a dozen assorted croissants from the French bakery. For three of us.
“What’s in the bag?”
She peeks inside it. “Brie, crackers, grapes, orange marmalade, and fig preserves.”
Damn. “I won’t need to cook tonight.”
