Home for Always by Allison Ketley

Author:Allison, Ketley [Allison, Ketley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mitchell Tobias Publishing LLC
Published: 2023-01-05T18:30:00+00:00

chapter nineteen

stone

I’m able to comfortably fall asleep on hard ground without issue. There was one time I had to stay on set overnight and we were in Yellowstone. I curled up in a tent, the weather turning below freezing, and conked out with the dedication of a coma patient, only rising to the mumbling and cursing of the film crew as someone tried to start a fire and warm themselves. My extremities were numb, but I slept through it.

Yet on Ma’s pull-out couch in her den, I can’t so much as close my eyes. I toss and turn, kicking the covers off then pulling them back on, tucking myself up to my chin, then discarding them again. I’m not hot or cold or physically hindered in any other way. It’s my head that’s the problem, full of images from this evening, except different.

Noa hanging on Chef Saint’s every word while he teachers her to properly stir a mixture in a bowl (which is absurd. Obviously she knows how to stir). Him coming up behind her and showing her how to do it, pressing his chest against her, guiding her arm with his hand before her mouth parts and she turns into him…

“Goddammit,” I mumble, sitting up.

The sheets fall from my bare chest and I scrub my hands down my face, as if that action can erase these obtrusive thoughts from my brain.

It shouldn’t matter if she has the hots for the tattooed chef. I want Noa to be happy, don’t I?

Except, I think she’d be better off with me.

A clank rings out from the other side of my door. I finally notice the golden light drifting in from under the frame and shadows flickering as something moves.

Accepting that sleep will not come easy, I slide off the bed, thinking maybe it’s Ma looking for a midnight snack and a chat. I could use the distraction and she could probably use the help, so I open the door and tiptoe into the hall so as not to startle her.

What I don’t expect once I reach the kitchen is to see Noa in full cook mode, pulling out Ma’s entire pot and pan collection, as well as a good portion of the pantry, all laid out on the breakfast counter like helpful soldiers.

Noa hasn’t seen me yet. Her back is to me and she’s dressed in a pink satin short and shirt combo with Ma’s apron tied over it. The fabric shines over her curves—specifically, the curve of her ass as her bare feet pad around the linoleum while she prepares.

She’s humming under her breath, her hair piled up on top of her head. Moo’s joined her, threading between her legs and meowing his support as she deftly hops over him.

“What are you doing?”

Noa screeches and nearly drops the boiling pot she’s carrying from the stove to … somewhere. She sets it down at the same time Moo yowls and his nails skitter across the floor as he seeks cover.

“Stone! You scared me.

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