Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Besides, how hard could cheese fries be?
It was fine.
I could do this.
I hummed a little to myself as I started pulling out ingredients, checking them off in my mind as I thought of everything I needed to bring this cheese parade to life. The worst part was that we didn’t have frozen fries I could just pop in the oven. No, Finn made everything from scratch, which meant I was going to have to figure out how to do the same.
Thank God for Google.
I was halfway through cooking bacon — expertly, if I do say so myself — when a voice slid down my spine like a slow, wicked hand.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Finn stood in the doorway, barefoot and sleep-rumpled, hair a mess, t-shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made me want to slide my hands under it and feel the warmth of the skin it clung to.
I tore my gaze away and back to the task at hand, ignoring the very strong zip of electricity that slid between my thighs at the thought.
“Didn’t want to wake you,” I said, flipping the bacon. “I see I failed in that mission.”
“Bacon has a very distinct scent, and since I’m the chef on this boat, I was more than a little worried when I smelled it in the middle of the night.”
“Well, no need to worry. I’m just whipping up some—”
“Stop.” He crossed the galley in two long strides, taking the spatula from my hand like I was a child caught playing with knives. His hand wrapped around mine in the process, a fleeting touch, but it seared my skin like lava.
It was insanely hot, the way he commanded control with the snatching of that spatula.
And it did not help the unwanted tingles situation I had going on.
“Go to bed,” he growled.
Hot.
Why is it so hot?
“I’ve got it,” I argued, even as he maneuvered me out of the way.
He swatted my ass — a sharp, playful smack that made me yelp. “I said go to bed.”
My mouth dropped open. “Finn!”
“Let me do my job, love.” He grinned over his shoulder as he took over the bacon and then began expertly cutting the potatoes I’d peeled, knowing the guests wanted fries without me even saying it.
I was still standing there with my jaw on the floor when he peeked at me again, arching a brow.
“You just going to stand there when you could be sleeping?”
I blinked out of my daze, but his handprint on my ass might as well have been a tattoo for how impossible it was to ignore. I rolled my lips together, popping a hip against the nearest counter and folding my arms.
“As chivalrous as your demand is, as long as they’re awake,” I said, nodding toward the main salon. “So am I.”
“Then I guess you’re keeping me company.”
I smirked, watching him as he effortlessly took over the mess I’d created and began turning it into a masterpiece.
It was frustrating, how good he looked — even half-asleep, bossing me around. Maybe more so with the whole bossing me around part. The easy way he moved around the galley reminded me of all the late nights we used to spend just like this, cleaning up after service, stealing kisses between washing dishes and checking on guests.
I swallowed hard against those memories, shoving them down as I picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, the crunch of it so satisfying I moaned.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, shaking the bacon at him before I took another bite. “Nicole is going to cream her pants when you throw this on a bed of cheese and sandwich it between two slices of sourdough.”
“Is that what that little moan was? You creaming yours?”
I narrowed my gaze, taking one last bite of the bacon before throwing the last of it at him. “Shut up.”
He laughed as it bounced off his nose and hit the floor.
“I heard about the, uh, discovery Leah made while unpacking today,” Finn said, arching a brow at me. He held up the ball of mozzarella I’d pulled out with a frown.
“They want it fried. Cheese fries, grilled cheese, mozz sticks…”
“They don’t want to shit tomorrow. Got it.”
I chuckled. “Maybe it helps with the whole toy situation. I can’t imagine anything that big coming near my ass, but different strokes for different folks, I guess.”
“What exactly is the appropriate size for things coming near your ass?” Finn asked with a smirk. “Just so I can pocket that information away.”
“That’s for me to know and you to lie awake at night dreaming of.”
“I’ll never sleep again.”
He smiled with the comment, seasoning the potatoes as my stomach did a little flip.
Was he flirting with me?
That felt like flirting.
I told myself not to read too much into it. After the fight last night and the pancakes this morning, I had no idea where the hell we stood. Throw in that little ass slap, and I was more than just a little confused. But whatever we were now felt better than what we had been the first day we walked onto this boat — so I’d take it, no questions asked.