“It’s hot,” she whispers.
For some reason, I feel my face flush.
I want to tell her we shouldn’t talk like that here. It feels wrong. Instead, I change the subject.
“So what sounds good?”
She hums for a moment. “Could you do some of those baby potatoes you made the other day with some kind of meat?”
“The baby red potatoes with oil, garlic, and rosemary?” I ask, needing her to confirm which ones she is talking about.
“Sure.” She smiles up at me.
I laugh. “Yeah, I can do those. How does sausage sound with it?”
“Hey, you’re the cook. If you think it will work, I’m here for it, and I’ll eat it.”
I smile, kissing the tip of her nose. “How did you survive before you moved in with me?”
“Very, very carefully. A whole lot of girl dinners and some basics.”
I groan. “What are girl dinners?”
“You know, a bunch of snacky or finger foods on one plate. Like peppers, pickles, and cheese and crackers, all paired together.”
“Jesus, no wonder your dad insisted we get married,” I say without thinking about it.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I look over at Rain and expect her to be upset, but she shocks me by smiling.
“You aren’t wrong. He used to ride my ass all the time for not having proper dinners.” She laughs. “Honestly, that’s exactly why he wanted you to marry me. He knew I would never go hungry again.”
I look down at her, sad. “Why didn’t you eat properly?”
She moves out of my arms and toward the front room. I follow behind her, turning off lights as I go.
“When I first moved out, I tried making things, but I quickly learned it’s hard as fuck cooking for one person. So I adapted.” She takes a deep breath. “And now I have you, who leaves me dinner even if he won’t be home.”
“And I’ll keep doing it,” I promise.
I don’t care if I have to prep meals for a week for her to heat up. I’ll make sure she never has to have a girl dinner again unless she wants to.
She smiles and ducks her head.
“You’re a charmer,” she murmurs.
“I’m your charmer.”
It’s right there. I could say it. That I love her.
I chicken out instead.
“Let’s go get you fed then. I would hate for Mustang to think I’m neglecting you.”
The sound of her laughter fills the space, and I know Mustang would have no issues with the way I treat his daughter.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE