Read Online Must Be Fate: (Cody and Clover) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 3) by Claire Kingsley - Free Book Online
Authors: Claire Kingsley
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stomach rumbles. It smells amazing.
I find Clover busy in the kitchen. The table is set for two and she’s already placed a couple serving dishes in the center, along with a bottle of wine.
She looks up and smiles. Every time she does that, I melt a little.
“Hi,” she says.
“What’s all this?”
“Dinner,” she says with another grin.
“Seriously?” I ask. “This smells unbelievable.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m famished,” I say.
She claps her hands together. “Perfect. I’ve been trying to keep things warm because I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, but I’m pretty sure it’s all still good.”
I stand motionless while she bustles around the kitchen, bringing the last of the things to the table. I’m stunned. Not only does it look and smell amazing, I can’t believe she went to all this trouble.
“Okay, it’s ready,” she says, gesturing toward the table. “Come sit.” She pulls out the chair at the head of the table and takes her seat next to me. “We have sautéed asparagus with hollandaise, roasted garlic couscous, lemon grilled chicken, and bacon-wrapped scallops. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I probably made too much.”
“This is…” I pause, staring at all the food. “This is incredible.”
“Yeah?” she asks. “I wanted to do something nice to show you how grateful I am.”
“Thank you,” I say. I hope she can hear in my voice how much I mean it. I’m so touched.
“It is absolutely the least I can do,” she says. “You’ve done so much more for me than you should have. I’ll have to find more ways to make it up to you.”
There’s a twinkle in her eye and one corner of her mouth turns up. I try to ignore the sudden tingle that runs from my chest straight to my swelling cock. Damn it.
I clear my throat. “You don’t have to do anything.”
She holds my gaze. “But I want to.”
Oh my god.
“Let’s eat,” she says.
I’m starving, but her tongue darts across her lips and it’s all I can do not to reach over and grab her so I can devour that gorgeous mouth.
“Do you eat seafood?” she asks, pushing the scallops toward me.
“I love seafood,” I say, trying to focus on dinner. I take a few scallops and put them on my plate. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
She shrugs. “Rebellion, mostly. Although it didn’t work.”
“Rebellion?”
“Yeah, my parents raised me as a vegan,” she says. “When I was a teenager, I got a job working at this little lunch place up the road from where we lived. I’d never even touched meat before—I thought it was gross. But then I discovered bacon.”
She smiles and pops a crumb of crisp bacon in her mouth.
“Anyway, I felt like I’d been missing all this great food, so I bought a bunch of cookbooks and spent hours watching cooking shows. Looking back, I think I just wanted attention. I thought my parents would be pissed when I started cooking all this meat, but they didn’t care.”
I put some asparagus and chicken on my plate. “They didn’t care? If they raised you eating vegan, I’m surprised they let you sully their kitchen like that.”
“Yeah, you’d think,” she says. “But they just said I needed freedom to explore, so they stopped using the kitchen for themselves and let me do what I wanted.”
“Wow, that’s … interesting.”
“They weren’t exactly conventional parents,” she says. “I didn’t even call them Mom and Dad. They felt they weren’t respecting my energy as a human being if they lorded their position over me.”
“Yeah, that’s unconventional,” I say. “Where do they live now? Do you see them much?”
She puts the serving fork down on the dish of asparagus. “No. I haven’t seen them in a long time. They moved to Thailand the day after I turned eighteen.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice casual. “They said they’d taken me through to adulthood and now it was time for them to do what they’d
I find Clover busy in the kitchen. The table is set for two and she’s already placed a couple serving dishes in the center, along with a bottle of wine.
She looks up and smiles. Every time she does that, I melt a little.
“Hi,” she says.
“What’s all this?”
“Dinner,” she says with another grin.
“Seriously?” I ask. “This smells unbelievable.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m famished,” I say.
She claps her hands together. “Perfect. I’ve been trying to keep things warm because I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, but I’m pretty sure it’s all still good.”
I stand motionless while she bustles around the kitchen, bringing the last of the things to the table. I’m stunned. Not only does it look and smell amazing, I can’t believe she went to all this trouble.
“Okay, it’s ready,” she says, gesturing toward the table. “Come sit.” She pulls out the chair at the head of the table and takes her seat next to me. “We have sautéed asparagus with hollandaise, roasted garlic couscous, lemon grilled chicken, and bacon-wrapped scallops. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I probably made too much.”
“This is…” I pause, staring at all the food. “This is incredible.”
“Yeah?” she asks. “I wanted to do something nice to show you how grateful I am.”
“Thank you,” I say. I hope she can hear in my voice how much I mean it. I’m so touched.
“It is absolutely the least I can do,” she says. “You’ve done so much more for me than you should have. I’ll have to find more ways to make it up to you.”
There’s a twinkle in her eye and one corner of her mouth turns up. I try to ignore the sudden tingle that runs from my chest straight to my swelling cock. Damn it.
I clear my throat. “You don’t have to do anything.”
She holds my gaze. “But I want to.”
Oh my god.
“Let’s eat,” she says.
I’m starving, but her tongue darts across her lips and it’s all I can do not to reach over and grab her so I can devour that gorgeous mouth.
“Do you eat seafood?” she asks, pushing the scallops toward me.
“I love seafood,” I say, trying to focus on dinner. I take a few scallops and put them on my plate. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
She shrugs. “Rebellion, mostly. Although it didn’t work.”
“Rebellion?”
“Yeah, my parents raised me as a vegan,” she says. “When I was a teenager, I got a job working at this little lunch place up the road from where we lived. I’d never even touched meat before—I thought it was gross. But then I discovered bacon.”
She smiles and pops a crumb of crisp bacon in her mouth.
“Anyway, I felt like I’d been missing all this great food, so I bought a bunch of cookbooks and spent hours watching cooking shows. Looking back, I think I just wanted attention. I thought my parents would be pissed when I started cooking all this meat, but they didn’t care.”
I put some asparagus and chicken on my plate. “They didn’t care? If they raised you eating vegan, I’m surprised they let you sully their kitchen like that.”
“Yeah, you’d think,” she says. “But they just said I needed freedom to explore, so they stopped using the kitchen for themselves and let me do what I wanted.”
“Wow, that’s … interesting.”
“They weren’t exactly conventional parents,” she says. “I didn’t even call them Mom and Dad. They felt they weren’t respecting my energy as a human being if they lorded their position over me.”
“Yeah, that’s unconventional,” I say. “Where do they live now? Do you see them much?”
She puts the serving fork down on the dish of asparagus. “No. I haven’t seen them in a long time. They moved to Thailand the day after I turned eighteen.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice casual. “They said they’d taken me through to adulthood and now it was time for them to do what they’d
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