3. Sully

CHAPTER 3

Homemade Chinese food for a whole week!

Score.

Sure, I didn't give her the piece of my mind I meant to…but she was crying. She's down on her luck. I'm not heartless.

And she's fucking beautiful. A sexy pint sized dream.

Now I'm nervous as hell.

Plumbing I can do with my eyes closed.

But women? I'm not good with women. They scare the crap out of me. Especially little spitfires who make my jeans tight.

"I'll go get my shop vac and fans to clean and dry this place," I say, getting back to business. "But we won't be able to turn the water on until I can do some diagnostics."

"So I won't have water tonight?"

I shake my head. "You can stay at my place for the night." God, what the hell am I doing?

"I can?"

"I've got guest rooms."

"You could be a murderer."

"I wouldn't get a week's worth of dinners if I murdered you."

She wrinkles her nose. "True."

"Besides, you could be a murder. I'm the one putting my life in danger."

She rolls her eyes and I fight back a chuckle.

"Not like I have a choice? I can't afford a cabin rental."

I pause, and take a breath. "I can pay for a cabin, if you're concerned."

She smiles at me and my jeans get even tighter. "That is nice of you, Sully. But you're already getting the raw end of this deal so I'm sure one night at your home is just fine."

I like hearing her say my name. I imagine her whispering it in my ear. Or screaming it as I'm buried inside her.

Damn. I leave before I do something inappropriate and ruin everything.

When I return less than an hour later, Talia's already dried almost everything except the floor with towels. She's opened all of the windows and I go to work vacuuming out the water and setting up the fans.

As the sun begins to set, she packs up some food from her refrigerator.

She pats the insulated bag. "This is most of our dinner. I still need to prepare some rice and vegetables to go with the dumplings."

"Sounds delicious," I reply. I decide to leave the vac, in case I need it again. "You have an overnight bag?"

She hands me the food. "You carry this and I'll get my bag."

We get in my truck and head to my house. When we pull up, she gasps.

"When you said ‘lake house' I pictured a modest cabin on the water, not this. This is gorgeous."

I open the door for her as we walk in. "Thanks. My friends and I built it."

She puts her bag down, then tries to take some of the food from me.

"I got it," I say, blocking her playfully. She grins and follows me into the kitchen.

"Wow. Beautiful." She gazes out at the lake, then at my chef's kitchen that's barely been touched. "This kitchen begs to be used, Sully. Why don't you cook in it?"

I set the food down on the counter and shrugs. "Never got into it. But I do miss home-cooked meals."

She begins to unpack the bags, taking out containers and produce. "Who made them for you?"

My thoughts turn to the old table at my parents house…full of stew, chowder, and soda bread. "My mom and aunts."

"Are they nearby?"

I shake my head. "Ireland."

"What?" She stops and looks me up and down. "I figured you might be Irish because of your name, but I didn't want to assume."

"I was raised here in Deepwood by my mum and dad, but when they retired they moved back to be with family."

"That must be tough." She puts on an apron she pulls from her bag.

It is, but I they're happy. And that's all that matters.

"You know, my mom's Irish. Her maiden name is Doyle."

"No kidding. And your dad's Chinese? And a chef?"

"Yep, they met when my mom was in China teaching."

"Where are they now?" I ask, getting a couple of beers out of the refrigerator.

"Mom's still in China. She's a professor. And my dad…" she pauses, and taps her fingers on the counter. "He passed away a while ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks." She starts grabbing pots, pans, and utensils from drawers like she's done this many times before. Even in a kitchen she's never been in.

She gets to work chopping an assortment of vegetables.

"So why are you here in Deepwood?" I ask, putting the beer bottle next to her.

"My grandmother on my mom's side just passed. We didn't get to see each other very often, but I often felt she understood me the most. Like kindred spirits or something. She left me a nice chunk of money with instructions to follow my dreams."

I nod.

"My dream is to run a bed and breakfast. So I'm trying to make her proud." She smiles wistfully, then downs a huge swig of beer.

My kinda girl.

She looks perfectly at home as she moves around, cooking, bringing the dumplings to life, along with the other dishes. She talks as she fills a couple different pots with water to boil. I admit, I like seeing her there. She seems comfortable, happy. Like she belongs there. Not for my benefit, of course. But because it's what gives her the most joy.

I'm already lost in her smile and the delicious aromas swirling around us.

"Why don't you set the table?" she asks, and I nod before I take off my cap, wash my hands, and get to work.

My mouth is watering by the time we finally sit at my dining table, where I've only ever played board games and set puzzles.

She points to a dark sauce in a small dish. "This is for the dumplings - it's black vinegar with ginger, plus a hint of chili oil. I hope you're okay with a little spice."

"I love spice."

"Good to know," she says with a wink.

My face heats, and she hands me some chopsticks. "I'm not good with these."

I go to put them down but she stops me. "I'll give you some tips. It's part of the experience."

After I pile some food onto my plate, she pulls up a chair next to me and demonstrates with her chopstick technique.

"Put the first one in the crease between your thumb and palm, resting it against the inside of your ring finger." She lifts it to show me, and I follow. "Then put the other in between your thumb and pointer finger, with a little help from your middle finger." I copy her once again.

She picks up a piece of bok choy and puts it in her mouth. I watch mesmerized as she chews.

She gestures toward me. "Your turn, big guy."

I grab a piece of bok choy and lift, but it slips out.

"It's slippery," she giggles. "But here." She leans over to put her hand on mine, and I try not to tremble. Damn, I must be hungry.

"Keep this thumb straight." She strokes her thumb over mine, and that tiny motion has my cock stiffening. "It'll give you more control over this stick."

Not my stick.

She turns to look at me and our faces are inches apart. I can feel her soft breath on my cheek.

Fuck, I could kiss her right now.

What am I saying? I just want to help someone out in a dire situation and get some home-cooked meals. I don't need to be acting like a horny teenager.

But I'm staring at her mouth like I could devour her faster than the meal on the table.

She clears her throat and moves away, saving me from myself.

"Qing man yong," she says cheerfully. "Or bon appetit."

I manage to grab a dumpling with my chopsticks, dip it into the sauce, and get it into my mouth without dropping it.

Flavors of juicy pork, earthy mushroom, chili, sesame, and ginger set fire to my taste buds in the best way.

"I could eat fifty of these." I grab another. "They're spectacular."

She laughs, the sound melodic and bright. "I didn't make that many. But I have plenty of dough to make them for the rest of the week."

"Perfect," I say through a full mouth. Forget manners, this is the best thing I've eaten in a long time.

She grins and takes another drink of her beer. "I saw a crossword puzzle on the counter. Maybe we could give that a go after dinner?" she asks.

If I'm not careful, I'll be under her spell by the end of the week.

Or sooner.