He measured out the milk, then looked at me accusingly. “Did you already put the wrong amount of butter in?”
I bit my lips to keep the laughter at bay as I said, “No.”
“Thank God.” He shook his head while he muttered under his breath. “Can’t believe I fell for someone that doesn’t follow the directions on the macaroni box.”
I was giggling to myself and placed the gravy over the chicken as he finished up the macaroni.
He kept looking over at me and muttering under his breath, causing me to continue to giggle until the food was ready.
After plating up the food, we headed to the living room and sat on the couch, the coffee table pulled up to our knees.
When I leaned forward, I had this nice jelly roll of fat that spilled over my yoga pants. He, on the other hand, still had abs.
Who had abs when they leaned forward?
Easton McKennick did.
I took a bite of my macaroni and groaned. “Wow, this tastes way better than mine.”
He shot me a disbelieving look that clearly said, “You don’t say?”
I continued eating, all but devouring my food despite the lunch we’d had. Or lack thereof.
I hadn’t had much appetite to eat while looking at Easton’s face plastered all over Sareen’s walls.
And now that it was on my mind all over again, the macaroni didn’t taste nearly as good.
To distract myself, I tried to get my mind off the subject of Sareen.
“Why didn’t you ever join your brother’s MC?” I asked. “You looked like you were very comfortable with them today.”
He took a massive spoonful of macaroni, then swallowed it before looking at me.
“You.”
I hadn’t expected that answer.
“Me?”
“You,” he confirmed. “You were here.”
That made me feel so… happy.
Holy shit.
“Why’d you wait so long to talk to me?” I asked. “Why didn’t you make the move?”
He bit one of the chicken strips in half before saying, “Why didn’t you?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
He was right.
I could’ve just as easily made the move.
I sighed. “I was having a pity party. I’m damaged goods.”
Who the hell would want to date someone that was sold into sex trafficking?
I knew that was something that I wouldn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.
The clink of his fork hitting the coffee table had my head snapping toward him.
All of a sudden, we were no longer separated on the couch.
Instead, he was all but pinning me to it with his hands cupping my face, and his big, beautiful body hovering over my own.
“You are not damaged goods,” he growled.
Then he kissed me. Cheesy lips and all.
I was laughing when he pulled away.
I was so confused.
“Hello?” I answered the phone.
“Hello, this is Paige Ortiz with Industrial Alarm. We’re showing a fire in the property on Eighth Street. Is everyone okay?”
A fog of confusion swirled in my brain, making me blink a couple of times.
“Umm…” I hesitated. “I don’t live there anymore. I don’t know.”