His face darkened. He glanced away. “Since I needed a hobby. To keep me from—to pass the time.”
There was so much more to that, she felt it all underneath the simple words. But he glanced back at her, and his face had cleared.
“You should taste my sweet potato pie. It’s killer.”
Her mouth opened. It closed. It opened again and she said, with feeling, “Wow.”
He gave her a true smile then, one that lit his face and his eyes and brought out a dimple in his cheek. She had to look away because she thought she’d never seen him look so beautiful. Tattoos and piercings and acres of muscles and a glower able to freeze lava that he wore more often than not and still he was always the most beautiful thing to her, masculine and strong and real.She looked at the plate and was appalled to find it sw
