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“Nine-thirty?” Wow, that was late for a teacher who was used to getting up at five-thirty every morning to get ready for school. The stress of the fire and practically acting out a porn show in front of Jake’s grandmother must’ve really taken it out of her.
“Soooo,” Britt drawled. “Tell me about last night.”
“I already told you,” Laurel evaded. “I torched my apartment with chicken.”
“That’s boring. I want the exciting stuff.”
“Setting my apartment on fire isn’t exciting?”
Britt held out her hand and rocked it side to side. “I think that man of yours is way more exciting than a little kitchen fire, don’t you?”
“Little? It destroyed an entire wall.”
“Stop stalling and dish.”
Knowing Britt wouldn’t back off until she got what she wanted, Laurel relayed the evening. Well, the PG version. She wasn’t going to get into graphic details of what all transpired, so she may have censored it a bit.
“Aside from his granny tossing iced tea on the situation, and the fact I know you’re holding out on me, that’s still hot. And then he made you dinner…” Britt placed a hand over her heart and made anawwface.
“From scratch,”Laurel pointed out. “Homemade spinach and cheese ravioli. He even made the pasta. And it was good!”
“Sugar, you hit the jackpot. A man who looks like thatandcooks? That’s yummy any way you slice it. I’d love a man to cook for me and actually have it be edible.”
“That definitely describes him.”
“What was that?” Britt raised an eyebrow.
Laurel caught the side of her lip with her teeth. “Did I say that out loud?”
“You most certainly did, and I one-thousand percent agree. That man is totally edible, lickable, fu?—”
“Okay! I get the picture.”
Britt launched herself at Laurel, who barely had enough time to move her coffee out of the way before she was wearing it.
“Hey! Watch it!”
Ignoring her protests, Britt captured her in a big bear hug. Maisie took being squished in stride and crawled out from underneath her mom to reposition herself across Laurel’s legs. Eugene would’ve gutted them both.
“I’m so happy for you! Wait till Skye hears!”
Ugh.Skye would never let her get away with the PG version. She’d definitely have to brush up on diversionary tactics for that conversation.
Laurel disengaged herself from the refrigerator magnet cleverly disguised as a Southern belle that was currently stuck to her. “You’re jumping the gun. It’s not like we’re a couple.” Though, she wouldn’t mind if they were. Jake kept surprising her in more ways than one, and, so far, all of them had been good.
“Uh-huh.” Britt patted Laurel’s free hand. “Keep telling yourself that. Now, go take a shower, andI’llcook you breakfast. I’m not making pasta from scratch, but I’ll make your favorite.”
Puffed strawberry French toast. Yum!
Britt’s French toast was the dish Laurel always teased she’d request for her last meal if she were ever on death row. But, after tasting Jake’s homemade ravioli, she wasn’t too sure anymore.
Thirty minutes later, Laurel’s still-damp hair was pulled back in a French braid. Since the weather was going to be in theseventies, she’d put on a pair of capri leggings and a baby blue T-shirt that had a graphic on the front of sparkly rainbow-colored unicorn kittens in a basket. It’d been a gift from a student. The child’s mother had said her daughter had picked it out herself as a Teacher’s Day present. It had been an unexpected gesture that touched Laurel’s heart, and every time she wore it, she thought of the bright smile on the little girl’s face when she’d given it to her. That was one of Laurel’s favorite memories. Plus, the shirt was really cute.
She was tying up the bottom of the T-shirt—they always seemed to be too long for her—when she rounded the corner to find Jake sitting at the kitchen island. She was shocked there wasn’t screeching, she stopped so abruptly.
“Jake?”
He swiveled around on the stool, a cocky grin on his can-I-please-stare-at-you-all-day-because-you’re-that-flipping-gorgeous face.
