No Weddings (No Weddings #1)(27)

Her soft voice held a tone of respect. “This is a beautiful kitchen—a dream kitchen, really. Do you cook?” As I cut the leafy greens, she nudged up next to me. “Here, let me. You’re using the wrong knife. And the wrong angle to cut.”

Maintaining contact, her hip against mine, she used that same butcher knife and balanced the point onto the cutting board, raising and dropping her forearm in a blur, each time moving a half inch over. Then she turned the strips and made four fast chops the other direction.

“See, it’s all in the wrist.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but loved watching her work. This was her domain, and she ruled it well.

“So, do you?” She arched a brow, staring at me.

What was the question? Oh, did I cook. I shrugged. “Enough to get by, I guess. If I had the time, I’d experiment more. I insisted on a gourmet kitchen in the remodel, and the designer took charge with her vision, down to every last detail.” I held up the vegetable peeler.

“She did a great job. Here, put that detail to good use.” She handed me the washed carrots.

Dinner took about thirty minutes to make. By the time we’d filled the house with a mouthwatering aroma of fried chicken and steamed vegetables, Mase made an appearance and stayed, like a stray dog wanting a home. At least he’d put on a T-shirt.

“Here, make yourself useful.” I handed him napkins and plates.

We sat down right as the front door opened and slammed shut. “Holy shit! What happened in here?”

Ben appeared from nowhere, as was his MO.

Confused, I lowered the tongs onto the platter of chicken. “I thought you were working tonight.”

He shook his head. “Lisa wanted an extra shift, and the new bartender needed training, so I took off.” His eyes widened as he came closer. “Wow. What’s for dinner?” He grabbed a plate from the cabinet and sat down.

Hannah glanced at me. “I don’t do foursomes.”

Mase dropped his fork onto his plate. It clattered in the middle of the sudden silence.

Her mischievous gaze met mine. Naughty. And just like that, I got more intrigued.

“I’ve never entertained three men at once,” she clarified, glancing at the other two.

The poor guys stared at her, blinking. I couldn’t blame them. She was gorgeous. And she could cook. And with that wicked mind and her naughty implications, the combination was deadly.

“Food! I’m talking about food!” She grabbed her water glass and took a sip.

Ben burst out laughing.

Mase picked up his dropped fork. “Good, because we were about to kick you the hell out.” He winked at her.

“This is Ben, by the way, my best friend since kindergarten. Ben, Hannah.”

Hannah leaned over the table, holding her hand out. But Ben scraped his chair back, went behind me, and lifted Hannah out of her chair and into a bear hug. “Thank you for cooking for us.”

I would’ve gotten jealous at Ben taking from her something I hadn’t yet had—a hug—but I let it slide. Funny how a home-cooked meal civilized the savageness out of a man.

Plus, I would have her all to myself soon enough. “She cooked for me.” I loaded a pile of fried chicken strips onto my plate beside all the vegetables. It had been a long time since I’d eaten this well. “Consider yourselves lucky you’re included.”

“Lucky indeed,” Mase said.

Ben moaned, his mouth full of chicken.

Hannah laughed, shaking her head. “I like your friends.”

“Trust me. They like you too. I’m pretty sure they’ve bonded with you for life.”

Not one scrap was left on anyone’s plate by the time we finished. Had Hannah not been there, I’m certain the plates would’ve been licked clean; I saw Mase eyeing his, debating just that.

“You guys good to clean up?” I asked, pulling Hannah up from her chair by the hand.

Mase stacked the plates and brought them to the sink. “Gladly. Come over anytime you want, Hannah. Please, Cade. Bring that woman back over.”

Ben collected the bigger platters off the table. “I second that.”

I glanced down to catch her grinning so wide, her cheeks looked ready to burst. “We’ll see.” Her tone was teasing.

Part of me was thrilled that the guys had instantly taken to her, which was a rare occurrence among my friends given my field-playing history.

But a larger part of me wanted Hannah all to myself. For a while, anyway.





Where Hannah had been reserved in the rest of my house, she turned inquisitive once I’d shut the door to my bedroom. My guess was that she was nervous in such close quarters with my bed mere feet away, but she delved into my stuff with such enthusiasm, I wondered if she just wanted to throw me off-balance. Which is exactly what she did.

“Curious much?” Amused, I folded my arms and leaned a shoulder against the closed door.

She paused while she pulled a drawer open and arched a brow. “You did say every drawer, every cabinet.”

I chuckled. “That I did. Along with fair warning of my free-for-all pass at your place in return.”

She smirked, but continued exploring. “You have quite the CD collection.” Her finger glided along the top edge of one of the rows. “How are they sorted?”