Can You Love Me Now?: (Oakland Hills Short Story 3) by Gretchen Galway

Author:Gretchen Galway [Galway, Gretchen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Eton Field
Published: 2015-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

“HEY,” JAKE SAID BEHIND HER.

Sasha was taking the lasagna out of the oven, imagining sticking her own head in there. It was electric, but still; she’d do with a burn. Might knock some sense into her.

Her solitary get-over-Jake weekend was ruined. He’d had snowflakes in his hair, for God’s sake. She’d be reliving the sight for weeks. Staring off into space, imagining herself brushing each snowy morsel off with her tongue as she curled up in his lap, moaning while he nuzzled her breasts.

Kill me now.

“Hungry?” She dumped the pan on the stove, not looking at him. She’d try to avoid making any more visual memories.

“Wow, that looks great.” He came around and stood just to her right, slumping against the counter, facing her. “But I wouldn’t want to steal your dinner.”

She pivoted away, shoving the oven mitts in a drawer. The thought of eating made her queasy, but she didn’t want to show that his arrival had upset her. “We’ll share. What did you bring?”

“To eat?”

Something in his tone made her look at him. He was grinning. At her.

Oh, crap. Now her nipples were puckering.

“Well, yes,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm, pleasant, ordinary. “That’s what I meant. But it’s fine if you didn’t bring any groceries. I brought more than I need.”

He pushed away from the counter and opened the fridge and then the freezer, where she’d put her weekend’s worth of groceries and precooked meals. “Wow, I’ll say. You’d never guess you only planned on staying the night.”

Her cheeks warmed. A rational explanation she could offer failed her.

“If you don’t want me around, I’ll go.” he said, closing up the refrigerator and turning to her. He took a step closer and raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me around?”

I want you around my naked, writhing body every morning, day, and night of my life.

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“But you had planned on staying all weekend until I arrived.”

Now her face was burning. She felt heat spreading down her neck, her arms, her chest.

Don’t panic. She could work this. Wanting to be alone didn’t expose her love for him; quite the opposite. “Sorry, Jake,” she said with a rueful smile. “I guess I was looking forward to having the place to myself.”

His grin faded. “Oh. Right.” He moved away, running long fingers through his hair. “Of course you did. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll just have to make the best of it.” She found two plates in the cabinet and divided the meal into uneven portions. Her stomach was clenched like a fist. “Help yourself to the wine.”

“Thanks, I will. Mind if I put on some music?” Phone in hand, he motioned to a new-looking speaker on a shelf.

No, please don’t. Music unraveled her even more than wine. A sentimental pop song or brilliant classical piece could turn her into an emotional bowl of quivering dessert gelatin.

“Be my guest,” she said, gritting her teeth.

In a few minutes they were sitting at the large oak dining table under a snowshoe-shaped chandelier, food and wine on the table, cello music in the air.

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