Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little #1)(57)

“I’ll see you at seven?”

“Seven sounds great.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





“Why are you hovering?” Caleb asks. I can’t tell if he’s really irritated, or if he’s pretending to be irritated.

“There are a few reasons,” I reply.

“How about if you tell me what they are?”

“Okay, well, first of all, I like watching. I have a nice view from over here.” I’m not even kidding about this view, which is, quite frankly, amazing. Caleb is wearing the perfect pair of jeans today, they make his ass look perfect. I’m not about to say that in front of his friends, though, who are sitting a few feet behind us.


Caleb looks over at me, giving me a wink and a smile.

“Those jeans are great, is all I’m saying. Buy more of them,” I say. There are general sounds of mumbling coming from the peanut gallery over there, but I ignore them. “The second reason is because I continue to be fascinated by the fact that we’re having a cookout on the fiftieth floor. That’s backyard territory back where I’m from. Since this is a new experience, I want to be close to the action.” Yes, we are fifty floors up, but this terrace is pretty amazing. Caleb had a decorator set up a little living space, so there’s a couch, a love seat, and some tables in the far corner. There’s even a rug in the center of the arrangement, like it’s an actual living room. It still boggles my mind.

“What’s the third reason?”

“Given your unfortunate history with accidentally setting things on fire, I feel better keeping an eye on things. If there’s a fire up here, we’re in real trouble.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to set anything on fire.”

“I bet you said that the other times you set things on fire, huh?” I make it a point to sound like I’m teasing him, but he probably did say that those other times. I know him well enough to be able to assume it happened.

“Technically, it’s already on fire. Being a grill and all,” Oliver says.

“Smartass,” Caleb and I say at the same time. We grin at each other like a couple of lovesick idiots.

“Let’s not tempt fate, Oliver,” I reprimand.

“Don’t you have something you should be doing in the kitchen?” Caleb asks.

I can hear the sharp intakes of breath from Ben and Oliver, because even they know that Caleb has messed up.

I furrow my brow. “Did you just tell me to get back in the kitchen?” I’m not upset or anything, but Caleb doesn’t need to know that. I can get more mileage out of this teasing if he thinks that I am.

“I…uh…” he stutters, his eyes a little panicked. It’s pretty cute, so I let him go on like that for a few more seconds. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just know that you’re making some things, so I wondered if you, um…needed to get back to that.”

“Relax,” I say, walking up behind him and resting my head on his shoulder. “I know you’d never tell the little woman to get back in the kitchen. Besides, I’m all done. We’re just waiting on you to finish the meat. I think I have something that might speed it up.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I can’t wait to see this,” Ben says, taking a sip of his beer.

“If history dictates,” Oliver replies dryly, “you probably don’t want to see it.”

“Hey!” I try to act offended, but they did walk in on something earlier, when Caleb and I lost track of time. Nothing indecent, just…borderline. “I made most of your food, and you don’t want to mess with the person who makes the food. Unless that person is Caleb, because messing with Caleb is fun.”

“I heard that,” Caleb shouts from his spot in front of the grill.

“I meant you to!” I slide the patio door open, and grab the surprise for Caleb that I stashed on the table. I walk up behind him, and slide the apron around his waist. It’s pink, and frilly, and hilarious. I tie it around his waist, copping a quick feel while I’m at it.

“Kiss the Cook,” he recites, reading words that are embroidered across the front with a smile on his lips.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I push up onto my tiptoes and press a kiss against his lips. “Try not to burn this one, okay?”

With another kiss, Caleb says, “I won’t.”

I walk back over to the seating area, and sit down opposite Ben and Oliver. I take a sip of the martini Oliver mixed for me earlier, then sink back into the cushions to relax. It’s been a while since I’ve spent any time cooking, and prepping the sides for tonight’s meal made my feet ache. It’s nice to be off of them for a while.

“Felicity couldn’t come?” I ask Ben. Obviously, she couldn’t, but I’m asking mainly because I want to see Oliver’s reaction. He doesn’t disappoint, perking up at the sound of her name, then immediately trying to hide it.

“She had a client with an emergency,” he says. “She’s sorry she couldn’t come, but she’ll be here next time.”

“Assuming there is a next time,” Oliver replies.

“I heard that!” Caleb shouts.

“I meant you to!”