He stood there, his gaze trailing slowly from head to toe. His face gave nothing away, but something fierce flickered behind his eyes.
“I wasn’t planning on interrupting,” he said finally, “but I couldn’t ignore the live performance.”
I cleared my throat, my face flushed. “I was just…cooking.”
“Right. Is that what we’re calling it now?”
He stepped further into the kitchen, still watching me.
I turned back to the stove like nothing happened, even though my heart was doing somersaults.
“Do you always put on a show in the kitchen, or am I just lucky? he asked, his tone low and teasing
“Only when the lyrics demand it,” I muttered.
“Then remind me to add more Cardi B to your work playlist.”
I didn’t have to look to know he was smirking.
And for some reason, that made it worse. I riske
