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Chapter 18
“Ithink that was thebest meal I’ve ever had,” Luke announced, as he cleared the table.
She laughed as she scrubbed the baking dish that she had cooked the asparagus in. The potatoes had turned out reminiscent of school glue, the asparagus was half cooked and the chops were like shoe leather. It was no wonder, as the mushroom soup had nearly dried out. The only thing that had turned out was Mack’s pie that they had yet to eat.
“And I think you’re either delusional or you’re trying to get in my pants.” Brit bit her lip, that was not supposed to come out of her mouth.
He laughed. “How did you know? But really it was good, thanks for cooking for me.”
She flicked suds from her fingers in his direction, her heart dancing in her chest. “You're either too kind or your taste buds are on vacation,” she teased, meeting his eyes.
He leaned against the door frame. “Maybe it's both, but you put effort into it, and that's what made it the best. Plus, getting to be here with you beats any gourmet meal.”
She felt a warm flush spread through her cheeks as she dried her hands on a dish towel and leaned back against the counter, considering him.
“Alright, I'll take the compliment. But next time, we're either ordering in or we keep our hands off each other until the food is done,” she grinned.
“Deal. Now that dinner's done, what's next on the agenda?”
The question hung in the air; she could feel the pull of desire tugging at her again but how to approach it?
“We could go watch a Christmas movie in the honeymoon suite and pig out on Mack’s pie.” He waggled his brows at her. “How does that sound?”
She burst out laughing and nodded. The dishes could wait, she decided, they were not going anywhere. “I’ll get the pie; you grab plates and forks and the wine!”
“Give me five minutes, gotta run out to my car and grab my bag,” he said, slamming out the door. Brit watched out the door as he skidded to his car. If she hadn’t been so focused on dinner earlier, she would have seen him pull around to the back of the inn.
She held the door open as he crossed the patio, once inside he shook the snow from his head. “Does it ever quit snowing up here?” he asked, stamping his feet.
She laughed at him. “Honestly, I don’t know. From the looks of it, no.”
“Well, I came prepared anyway.” He slung the bag onto his shoulder. “Got my pj’s and... snacks.”
He didn’t dare tell her that the snacks were pleasure toys for her.
Brit set the pie and utensils on a tray and held out the wine bottle. “Can you carry this? I don’t trust going up the stairs with it balancing on a tray.”
He took it from her and said, “We can take the elevator up.”
Brit suddenly had a stunned look on her face.
“What is it?” he asked, full blown concern in his voice.
“It just occurred to me that I’ve never taken the elevator up to the second story. I always use the stairs.”
