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I smile. “You remember what I was wearing?”
“It’s kind of hard to forget.”
A full-on grin takes over my face. I can’t help it.
“And you still look great,” he says.
I purse my lips. “I’m a whale, but thank you.”
He half rolls his eyes. “You’re pregnant, and you look amazing.”
Enough with the compliments. My face is getting hot, and I’m getting all flustered. “I work out five days a week. Kickboxing and weight training mostly. But lately, I’ve scaled back to only three times a week.”
“We should work out together sometime,” he suggests.
“What’s your poison besides swimming?”
“Hitting the bag and lifting the weights.”
“Nice. I’d love to work out with you.” I drag my eyes from him to my plate. “Please don’t judge me, but I’m about to go in. I promise not to lick the plate, though.”
“I swear, you’re like a chef’s dream.” He takes a sip of his strawberry lemonade, and I almost squirm with what I think I see in his eyes. It’s as though he’s about two seconds away from taking me right here on this table. The best way to ignore my throbbing lady parts is to distract myself with the delicious food on my plate.
I shovel a heap of rice and gravy into my mouth. My shoulders sway from side to side as I chew my food and swallow. “I know you’re classically trained and all, but this taste like a gravy my ancestors would be proud of.”
Hunter slices a piece of broccolini with his knife and fork. “You sound like Mama B.”
“Mama B?”
“Daryl’s mom.”
I put my elbows on the table and lean forward. “So you’ve been to a cookout or two?”
“I’ve been to a few.”
“Good. Because if you hadn’t, I was going to pull some strings to get you on the list. We don’t just give invites to everyone, you know.”
“Oh, I know. It took years for Mama D to let me bring the potato salad. And now I’m the auntie-approved potato salad guy.”
I laugh. “Potato salad sounds so good.”
“I’ll make you some tomorrow.”
I grin stupidly. “You know the way to a pregnant woman’s heart.”
A cocky smile frames that beautiful face of his. “Yours is the only one I care about.”
When he says stuff like that, it makes me wonder … “Stop,” I tease, touching my cheek. “You’re making me blush, and I’m dark-skinned, so that’s damn near impossible.”
We both laugh and continue eating our meal over a light, easy conversation free of sexual innuendos, sexual tension, and harmless flirting.
Chapter Nineteen
Hunter lights the fireplace after dinner, and we move to the couch to soak up its heat. With my back against the armrest and my feet in his lap, I balance an empty dessert bowl on my pregnant belly. “How often do you come here?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
“How long have you had this place?”
