All Aflame by Mia Moon

Author:Mia Moon [Moon, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Jonathan picked me up in his big navy blue truck. True to his word, his house was one block over. How had I lived that close for so long and never noticed him walking out his front door or driving home?

I touched my hair with nervous fingers after he helped me out of the truck. I’d pulled it up in a clip, but that was the most I was good at, besides my running ponytail. Makeup and I were almost mortal enemies. Beauty routines might as well have been a ritual for an ancient curse. There was always blood and someone screaming…usually me. I decided to stick with what I knew—quick mascara, sheer gloss.

We were having dinner at his house.

Don’t bring any food with you, his last message teased. He was still picking on me—sweetly—about my awful choice in store-bought cookies.

Sweat prickled the back of my neck. I shifted my weight, mentally talking myself down. I didn’t have to run or hide. He saw me. He understood me. I was safe.

Jonathan grinned over his shoulder, holding the door open for me to step in first. “I’m so glad you were up for this,” he said.

I stepped through the door and waited for him to follow. “Thanks for asking me,” I replied. “And for encouraging me, too.”

He took my hand as he closed the door behind us. “So, this is my place,” he said, flipping on the lights. He kept his home nice and cool.

The kitchen was, without a doubt, the heart of Jonathan’s home. An undeniable warmth emanated from it, calling me forward. The living room was a quaint afterthought, tight with cozy furniture.

“How can I help?” I couldn’t sit at his granite-topped kitchen island without at least being willing to assist.

“You can sit right there and enjoy yourself.” He flashed me a smile. “How about a drink? I grabbed a bottle of that white you like.”

“Sure,” I said.

He used a silver corkscrew to pop the cork on the dark glass bottle. Was he showing off or was I paying too much attention to his biceps? Hot damn, something about being alone with him was way more intense than any of our group get-togethers had ever been!

He slid my full wine glass my way and grabbed a small cream-colored card from the corner of the counter. "This is that therapy group I mentioned."

I accepted the card and took a big gulp of wine before I looked at it and murmured my thanks.

He didn't make a big deal out of it—just turned and began to pull out pots and ingredients.

I tried not to pick at my nails while I watched him work his kitchen magic. In no time, tantalizing smells filled the air.

His forearms twisted and bulged with every movement as he chopped veggies and spread them in a pan. My mouth went dry, despite the wine.

“Whatever you're making smells amazing.” Was I even worse at small talk now than I had when we met at the barbecue?

Jonathan leaned over the island to clasp my hand.

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