Chapter 85

Nan’s POV

Lionel’s surprise came days later. The girls were at a friend’s sleepover. Personally vetted by his security of course.

Most of the staff had been sent away for the evening.

We had the entire house to ourselves.

“What surprise could be waiting for me in the kitchen?” I complain as Lionel leads me there.

“Oh hush. You’ll see.” Lionel says without any real venom.

“You know…I’m pretty sure serial killers say the same thing to their victims right before they dissect them.” I comment playfully.

“Your flirting skills are truly something to behold.” He says dryly.

“I learned from the best.” I shoot back.

“First you accuse me of being a serial killer. Now you accuse me of being bad at flirting?” He chuckles.

“I did not accuse you of being serial killer.” I say matter of factly. “I just said you resembled one right now.”

“Like that’s any better.” He huffs.

I ignore his ungratefulness at my magnanimous description. “Also, your version of flirting involves purposely irritating me.”

He tries to hide his answering grin. But I see it anyway as he turns his head away. “Now I’m irritating.”

“Only when you try to surprise me.” I clarify. “I’m not a person who enjoys surprises.”

“You’ll like this one.” He reassures. Disregarding my doubtful glare.

The kitchen is as empty as the rest of the house. On the top of the counter sits a bountiful of groceries. All unpacked and out of bags.

“Am I supposed to put those away? Is that the surprise?” I ask, unimpressed.

He sighs. “No, Nan.”

My bottom lips twitches as I repress my mirth. “I see. You don’t know where they go.”

I nod sagely. Putting on my best show of obliviousness. I make a show of examining the ingredients.

Lionel rolls his eyes and groans. I double down on my act. “Ah. I think items such as butter would count as a cold item.”

“Nan.” Lionel says in exasperation.

“Butter should probably be stored…” I dramatically point my fingers towards the fridge. “HERE.”

He gives me the evil eye. Amusement and annoyance playing across his handsome face. It’s an endearing mix.

“Did that help?” I ask ‘innocently.’

“The girls have learned that trick from you.” He accuses.

“It might just be in their genes.” I jest back.

He sighs heavily again. I giggle. “Okay, what the surprise?”

“I thought we could make dinner together. That it might be a fun activity to try with the girls out.” He admits.

“You? Cooking?” I ask disbelievingly.

“I know how.” He bites back defensively.

I twist my lips. “You couldn’t even figure out how to turn the oven on the last time you tried to help.”

But then I catch the faintest redness around his ears. Is he blushing? I look at him more intently.

He mumbles something. “What?” I ask.

“I…I took a cooking class.” He confesses.

‘Why in the world would Lionel do that?’ I think in confusion. ‘He hates cooking!’

His bashfulness grows when I tell him this “I do hate it. But you like it.”

That pulls me up short.

“You learned to cook for me?” I ask quietly. His thoughtfulness melting me into a puddle.

“You like it.” He reiterates. “I thought it would be nice to do something you liked together.”

All of my previous snark has fled. It left me feeling strangely vulnerable. As though my wall of ice was cracking open.

“Well then…” I clear my throat. “Let’s get cooking.”

Lionel was right.

Cooking together is fun. It became clear that Lionel would never be an expert early on. Watching him fumble is highly entertaining.

“Lionel…” I say with delight. “That was powdered sugar. Not flour.”

He frowns. “Are you sure?”

I lift up his abomination of ‘dough.’ “I promise you that there is not one noodle in the world that will look like this. Not intentionally.”

He groans loudly. “Why are these not properly labelled?”

“Probably because most people can tell the difference between sugar and flour.” I reply.

“I’ll start again.” Determination enters his eyes.

“Why don’t we just use store bought noodles? It would be less of a struggle for you.” I suggest.

But he shakes his head resolutely.

“You like noodles. Homemade noodles are better.” He declares. I can’t help but smile at him.

“If you’re sure…” I say.

He smiles loop sided at me. “I don’t mind. It just means I get to spend more time with you.”

I bring my head down to hide my pleased flush. “The flour is on the top shelf to the right.” I instruct.

The rest of our dinner goes smoothly. We playfully nudged each other out of the way. Our skin is covered in dough and flour by the end.

We eat our noodles on the kitchen floor. Sitting side by side. Laughing and ribbing at each other.

It’s as natural as breathing. This little dance of ours. One we fall into when in each other’s orbit.

There is even an intimacy as we do dishes. His hands and arms brushing mine. The way I flick water at him mischievously.

The tension between us grows heated as it usually does. But there is no urgency to our actions this time. Only shared touches and mutual trust.

His kisses are languid. Calm and worshipful presses against the hot skin of my neck and mouth. It’s a re-exploration of each other.

He lightly tugs my hair out of my low ponytail. Runs his hands through its strands. Lightly wraps his hands in it.

His fingertips softly message my neck and shoulders as we continue to kiss. I can’t hold back my moans of pleasure. His touch is soothing yet somehow arousing.

My own hands find their ways to grab that firm behind of his. I squeeze. He growls into my mouth.

I smirk against his lips. He responds by nipping at my ear lope. I laugh breathlessly.

“You tease.” He comments. His hot breath sending pleasant sensations into my nerves.

“I can’t help it. Who could resist when it’s right there?” I mummer into his ear.

He rests his head against my chest. I card my hands through his silky curls. I am hesitant to bring up the subject…but I know the words need to be spoken.

“Lionel…I don’t think we should have sex yet.” I admit.

But the expected protest does not come. He only lifts his eyes to meet mind. There is only tender understanding in his molten eyes.

“I know.” He responds.

“You do?” I check.

He breathes out a huff of laughter. “We only just made things official. I figured it would be best to take things slowly.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” I bite my lip.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Nan…I know.”

“I don’t regret being with you. But the last time we slept together…” I trail off uncertainly.

“That last time was not what it should have been.” Lionel voices.

I hold my breath. Unsure how to respond. Unsure if I should.

“I’m going to do things right this time. I won’t touch you until you know for sure you can trust your heart with me.” Lionel proclaims seriously.

It tugs at me. I feel a little guilty. I swallow. “Lionel…”

He puts a finger against my lips. “I am going to court you properly.”

I close my eyes. Opening my heart once more. Letting myself have this.

“Okay.” I whisper.

Lionel’s POV

I kept my promise.

I courted Nan with everything I had. I needed to show her that I was serious in my intentions. To show her just how much she meant to me.

It was the most natural thing in the world for me. Loving Nan is the easiest thing I had ever done. My wolf was calmer now that I no longer fought my feelings or instincts.

Seeing the warmth in her eyes behind her mask of toughness was humbling. Nan is a strong woman. A woman I had already hurt in my own stupidity.

That glimpse of the soft heart within her never failed to make me feel blessed. Taking her out on dates became my goal. Anything to bring a smile to her face.

Like all good things in my life…fate had other plans.

It all came to a screeching halt when I received the phone call.