Hillary
“That’s actually great,” Ben looks at me with so much pride after slicing two large onions. He is so cute.
“See, I learn really fast,” he boasts, and I laugh at him.
“How do you like your steak?” I ask, feeling Gianna’s soft skin move past my leg. Strange how I have gotten used to a large old snow leopard just lounging in the same space as us.
“Very well done, I don’t want to eat bloody raw meat,” Bentley says, and I laugh because I do like my steak medium rare.
“God forbid a person has a different preference from you, Bentley,” I say, turning the steak and seasoning the other side.
Bentley wraps his arm around my waist and sniffs my skin. “The only raw thing I like is you,” he teases, squeezing me into a hug and placing a kiss on my cheek.
“Why did you leave on Christmas wi
