Rush Too Far (Rosemary Beach #4)(41)

“Safety measure. All females need a phone. Especially ones who drive vehicles older than they are. You could break down at any moment,” I replied, deciding that I would tell her why I wanted her to have a phone instead.

“I have a gun,” she said, with determination in her voice.

She was so sure she could take care of herself. “Yeah, you do, badass. But a gun can’t tow your truck.” There, let her argue with that. “Are you coming home?” I asked. I hadn’t thought about the fact that she might have plans tonight when I’d decided to cook her a meal and set up a seduction scene.

“Yes, if that’s OK. I can go do something else if you need me to stay away,” she replied. She still didn’t get it. She thought I wanted her to stay away. That there was anything else in the world I would rather do than be near her.

“No. I want you here. I cooked,” I said.

She paused, and I heard a surprised little intake of breath that made me smile. “Oh. OK. Well, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“See you soon,” I said, and I ended the call before she heard me laugh from pure f**king happiness. She was coming home. Here. To spend the night with me. I was fixing this. I was going to find a way to make her understand. I couldn’t lose her.

I went back to my food preparation. I didn’t cook for people often. Mostly just myself, when I really wanted something. Being able to cook something for Blaire was different. I enjoyed every damn minute of it.

She wasn’t used to being taken care of or pampered, and that was a damn shame. Blaire was the kind of female who should be cherished. I opened the fridge, pulled out a Corona and opened it, then sliced a lime and put it on the rim. Most girls I knew liked lime with their Coronas. I wasn’t sure Blaire was going to like beer, but I was making Mexican food, and you had to have a Corona with this meal.

I fixed the cheese, chicken, and vegetable mixture inside the flour tortillas, then placed them on the hot skillet.

“Smells good.” Blaire’s voice broke into my thoughts.

I glanced over my shoulder to see her dressed in the server uniform from the club. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but there was a small smile tugging on her lips. She’d caught me humming along to one of my dad’s newest songs.

“It is,” I assured her, then wiped my hands on a towel and went to pick up the Corona I had fixed for her. “Here, drink up. The enchiladas are almost finished. I need to flip the quesadillas, and they need a few more minutes. We should be ready to eat soon.”

She took the beer and slowly put it to her lips. This was her first time with beer. She didn’t spit it out, which was a good sign.

“I’m hoping you eat Mexican,” I said, as I pulled the enchiladas out of the oven. What I really hoped was that this was good. I hadn’t made enchiladas in a while. I even had to Google some recipes to make sure I got it right.

“I love Mexican food,” she said, still smiling. “I will admit I’m really impressed that you can cook it.”

Good. I wanted to impress her tonight. Convince her that I wasn’t an ass**le. I looked up at her and winked. “I got all kinds of talents that would blow your mind.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she took a larger gulp of the Corona. I was making her nervous. I didn’t mean to do that. It was easy to forget that Blaire wasn’t used to flirting.

“Easy, girl. You gotta eat something, too. When I said drink up, I didn’t mean for you to gulp it down,” I told her, not wanting her to get drunk or sick.

She nodded and wiped the drop of beer that had clung to her lips.

All I could think about was licking it off for her. How plump and smooth her bottom lip felt under my tongue. I had to look away. My food was going to f**king burn.

I had already made the tacos and burritos, so I moved the quesadillas to the platter I had put the others on. There was no way we were going to eat all this. I’d gone overboard, but I wasn’t sure what she liked, and I wanted her to enjoy her meal. My need to watch her eat was quickly feeling like an addiction.

“Everything else is on the table already. Grab me a Corona out of the fridge, and follow me,” I told her, moving to the table with the platter. I headed for the balcony outside. At first, I had disliked this idea, because she’d seen me out here once before on a date, and I didn’t want that image in her head. But the waves and the Gulf breeze made everything seem more intimate. I just hoped she wasn’t thinking about me f**king another woman the whole time we were out here.

“Sit. I’ll fix your plate,” I said.

She nodded and sat on the chair nearest to the door. I could see the surprise in her eyes, and I liked that this wasn’t something she expected. I wanted her thoughts on us. No one else. My past was just that—my past. Besides, if she only knew just who I’d been fantasizing about that night when I’d been on this porch with Anya . . .

I fixed her plate and set it down in front of her. Then I leaned down to her ear so I could smell her, because it was driving me crazy . “Can I get you another drink?” I asked, needing a reason for inhaling her neck.

She shook her head no.

I forced myself to move to the other side of the table. I fixed my plate and looked up at her. “If you hate it, don’t tell me. My ego can’t handle it.”

She took a bite of the enchilada. The flicker in her eyes told me she was pleased. I felt like sighing in relief. I hadn’t f**ked it up. “It’s delicious, and I can’t say I’m surprised,” she told me.