I held her against me for several more seconds, needing to feel more of her body. “I was waiting for you to get here before I threw the steaks on the grill. Veggies are going on there too. Potatoes are in the oven.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it handled. I’ll set the table.”
“Already done.”
I brought her into the kitchen, where the meat was sitting in a pool of marinade, rising to room temperature—a trick I’d learned from my father that made the beef juicier. The vegetables were next to it, all cut to the size I wanted.
She eyed up both and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m impressed. Admittedly, I semi-expected your chef to be here. I’m really happy he’s not.”
My thumb traced her bottom lip before I kissed it.
The truth was, our chef was tied up at Ford’s house tonight, but I woul
