They got to talking about hunting and gun ranges and forgot my mother and I even existed, which was fine since we were busy whispering about the McCade family genes and how incredible their bone structure was.

Chapter Twenty

JAMIE

Five days later

“Legs!” I hollered, kicking the front door closed and tossing my keys on the entryway table.

I fished the piece of paper out of my back pocket and was already crossing the living room and searching for Tori when she called out from the kitchen.

“In here! I’m …” She paused, eyes lifting from the bowl she was stirring when I entered the room. “Oh, hey.” She smiled, red lips stretching wide. “I’m just getting these potatoes coated and ready to roast in the oven. Then I’ll cut out the biscuits. Give me fifteen. We’ll be ready to eat.”

She went back to stirring.

Tori was cooking us dinner, something she hadn’t done yet but felt was long overdue, this feeling coming over her last night while we were shacked up on the couch, watching TV and scarfing down the half-everything, half-just-pepperoni pizza I’d brought over.

Nearly finished with her second slice of pepperoni, she set her plate down on the coffee table and turned to look at me, stating, “I’m making you a home-cooked meal tomorrow. So don’t be coming over with food. I got it covered.”

Reading the look on her face as this being something important to her, that it was gonna mean something when she gave it and wanting her to tell me that, I’d asked why.

I was a fucking moron thinking she’d tell me the real reason.

Tori shrugged, picked up her pizza, took a bite, and answered around her mouthful, “Eating in is cheaper and better for you. I’m getting a belly.”

She wasn’t getting a belly. The little bulge she showed me after I called her out on it wasn’t no fucking belly either, and truth be told, even if it was, I’d still be hard up. Tori could have a belly and two fantastic asses and I’d be wanting her nonstop like I was doing now. I told her that, too.

That led to us eating cold pizza and missing the rest of the Yankees game. Except I didn’t miss nothing. Neither did she.

Now here she was, cooking something that smelled delicious. Any other night, I’d want to let her continue but not right now.

“That shit can wait,” I told her, stepping up to the island and standing across from where she was working.

Tori stopped stirring, lifted her head, and narrowed her eyes on me. I started smiling. She had a dusting of flour on her cheek, a swipe on her forehead, and even more covering the apron she was wearing. Plus, she looked pissed, and Legs looking pissed dressed as Betty Crocker while looking like a fucking beauty queen was hard not to smile at.

“I have never in my life made biscuits that were shit, Jamie,” Tori shared, heavy on the attitude. “I follow my late nana’s recipe each and every time. The day I start making shit biscuits is the day I move out of the South.”

“Babe,” I started, but she kept right on going and cut me off.

“And no, shit or not, they can’t wait. None of what I’m doing can wait.” She gestured at the stove behind me with her hand not curled around the spoon. “I got everything timed perfectly with the pork chops, except the green beans, which have been cooking all day. They’re ready whenever. But the rest? I mean, seriously. Do you want to eat cold meat and warm sides, because I sure don’t.”

Not waiting for an answer, Tori went back to stirring again, doing it more vigorously now and causing her overgrown bangs to fall into her eyes. The rest of her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, looked messy, and had flour sprinkled throughout it.

I slapped the paper I was holding down on the counter, rephrasing and repeating, “Legs, trust me, it can fuckin’ wait.”

Tori’s hand stopped moving again. She shook her head to clear her hair from her eyes, then leaned over to look at the paper I was keeping flat. By the time her eyes reached mine, they’d gone soft. “Is that …” Her voice, free of attitude now, trailed off when I jerked my chin.

She pulled her lips between her teeth, released the spoon, and slid the bowl aside. Then she wiped her hands off on her apron and padded quickly to the fridge, where she pulled down a paper secured by magnets. Tori came around the counter to stand beside me and laid her paper next to mine.

Her throat worked with a swallow before she looked up, hands tucking the fallen pieces of hair behind her ears and then knotting together at her stomach. She looked uneasy all over again.

After everything that had gone down Monday, were we now back to this?

We were pulled off the road at a rest stop, getting five miles from the hospital before Tori was jerking me off through my shorts and forcing me to take us off the highway before I wrecked her car.

Didn’t know what it was that had her wound up and needy like this. Straight up, it could’ve been several things.

I’d been gone one night, got Tori off over the phone, which didn’t relieve her, just worked her up even further and had her missing the real thing twice as hard.

We were finally alone after the two days with her parents in that hospital room, not having privacy to do more than kiss and not really getting time for that either.

Or it could’ve been the news of her dad’s condition after the test he had done that morning. Moods were high after that.

He had heart disease. Not typical good news, but it was good compared to what they’d been fearing. The fact that it was manageable had Tori and her mom breathing easy. That paired with Travis doing me a solid and saying he was gonna stay on top of her dad and routinely check in on him had Legs in high spirits.