6. Talia

CHAPTER 6

I pull my shopping list out of my pocket as I maneuver through the aisles of the grocery store. I run through the various dishes I plan to make for Sully this week—dumplings, stir-fry, and maybe sweet and sour pork, if I can find everything I need here.

As I reach for a bottle of fish sauce, I hear a cheerful voice behind me.

"Hey, aren't you Talia, the one who bought the Deepwood Inn?"

I turn to see a smiling woman with long, sleek dark hair in a chic ponytail, holding a basket overflowing with items. Beside her a tall, rugged guy with piercing green-blue eyes plays with the chubby-cheeked toddler sitting in the front of his cart.

"That's me," I say, and she extends a hand out to me.

"Violet," she replies, and I shake hers. "This is my husband, Nick, and our little munchkin, Ethan."

Nick waves in greeting, and Ethan gives me a toothy grin.

"I've seen you around town," Violet continues. "You're the one driving Sully crazy with all the renovation noise, right?"

I huff. "Sheesh. For someone so shy, he sure has no problem complaining to everyone about that."

Nick chuckles. "Hey, it gives him something to do."

Violet levels her gaze at him. "Don't be mean. He's one of your best friends."

"Which is why I give him such a hard time," he replies, grinning.

"Well, he's actually been helping with the plumbing at the Inn."

"Uh, Sully?" Violet's eyebrows shoot up. "Sully O'Neill?"

I nod. "We have a deal—he helps me with the plumbing and I cook him dinner for the week. Chinese food, to be specific."

Nick and Violet exchange surprised looks.

"Sully's not one to sacrifice his alone time," Nick says cautiously. "You must be some cook."

I smile, feeling a little proud. "He seems to like it." I pause, and an idea strikes. "You guys should come over tonight! I'd be grateful for the company, and I'm sure Sully would want to see his friends."

Violet's eyes light up. "We'd love to! It's been ages since we've been out. And trying to find decent Chinese food around these parts has been more than difficult." She chews her lip and glances at Nick. "I bet the rest of the gang would love to get together, too."

"There's a whole gang?" I ask.

"Yeah, there are five couples in our little group," Nick explains. "We used to hang out more often, but life gets in the way, you know? Timing's great, actually. I think we're all in town."

"But that's a lot of people, Talia," Violet says. "If it's too much?—"

"Nonsense! I adore cooking for big groups. Invite them all," I say enthusiastically. "It'll be fun. And don't worry about Sully—I'll handle him. It's my place."

Nick chuckles. "Alright, we'll see you tonight. But don't say we didn't warn you—Sully might give you a hard time."

"Nothing I haven't dealt with so far," I reply with a grin. "See you at seven?"

"We can't wait," Violet confirms and grins at Nick. "Text the sitter, babe. We're going out!"

"Whatever," Sully grumbles, going back to work under the kitchen sink.

Nick wasn't kidding. I told Sully I'd run into Nick and Violet at the grocery store and that his whole crew was coming over for dinner, and the man got even grumpier. If that's possible.

I guess he really is a recluse at heart.

But watching him under the sink, his thick, muscled body flexing as he tightens something there, loosens another thing here, adding glue, a clamp… I realize I don't mind that he's a homebody. Knowing that he's doing all this to make my place run smoothly…is hot.

Okay, so also remembering last night and how he stroked his cock, imagining it was me there with him, is damn hot, too.

What did it matter if he wasn't a social butterfly, like me?

"It's done," he says, wiping his hands and turning to face me. His shirt is damp, from stray water and sweat. And it's sexy.

I reach over to the sink. "I can turn it on and won't get sprayed?"

His mouth turns up at the corner. "Try it."

I hesitantly lift the handle and water pours out from the faucet straight into the sink. Just as it's supposed to.

Turning, I throw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Oh god, big mistake. That smell. All man and musk—it's overwhelming.

"You're…welcome." He awkwardly pats my back and once again I've made this weird.

I back away.

He takes his cap off and runs a hand through his damp hair.

"I gotta get changed," he says, grabbing his tools.

"Thanks again. And don't be long, it would be great to have some help as I make dinner."

He grunts, which I assume is a yes, as he steps onto the porch and heads for his car.

By the time he returns, I'm dressed. The kitchen is completely full—all burners going, all surfaces covered in ingredients, containers, and utensils.

"Grab an apron," I say, as he steps in. I glance up and he looks delicious, yet again, in a pair of dark jeans and a green Henley that brings out his eyes.

"Smells amazing," he says, tying the apron around him, and I grin.

I roll out the dumpling dough on the floured countertop, my hands moving quickly to keep it from drying out. Sully watches me with a mix of curiosity and concentration, his large frame seeming almost out of place among the crowded kitchen.

"Alright, big guy, time to get your hands dirty." I hand him a small ball of dough. "I'll show you how to fill the dumplings."

He nods, taking the dough from me. His hands dwarf mine and pinching the dough might be challenging with his big fingers. But we'll manage.

"First, you roll it out like this," I demonstrate, pressing and rolling until the dough is a thin, even circle. Sully mimics my actions, with an expression of intense focus.

"Not bad," I say, inspecting his work. "Now, we take a spoonful of this filling and place it in the center. Then fold the dough over and pinch the edges to seal it."

I show him how to do it, my fingers working quickly. He follows along, a bit clumsily at first, but soon gets the hang of it.

"Your dad taught you this?" He asks, voice deep and soft.

I smile. "Yep. He used to say that making dumplings is like creating little pockets of happiness."

Sully glances at me, his eyes warm.

A familiar ache forms in my chest. "I miss him a lot. But cooking always makes me feel closer to him. Like he's here with me."

Sully nods, a small smile on his face.

Suddenly, I feel the need to apologize. "I should've asked you before inviting all your friends. I'm sorry about that."

He shrugs. "It's fine. I don't mind them and their families. But sometimes I can't help but feel a little jealous spending time around them."

I look up at him, surprised by his honesty. "Jealous? I wouldn't have guessed that. You always seem so…grumpy."

He chuckles, a deep rumble that makes my heart skip a beat. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's easier to be grumpy than to admit you're lonely."

"Hmm…I get that."

We work in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft rustling of dough and filling.

"We're not a bad team," I say, admiring the neat row of dumplings we've made.

He scratches his jaw. "Kinda fun, too. You're a good teacher."

"Oh stop." I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks, as I drop the dumplings in the water to cook. Everything's about ready to be served.

Sully's eyes darken as he continues to watch me. "I like it when your cheeks turn pink," he says, and he reaches over to stroke my face with the backs of his fingers.

My heart pounds in my chest as I look up at him. The kitchen suddenly feels even smaller, the air thick. Sully's too shy to make any move. If he even wants to make a move. But I want to try.

I tilt forward, pressing up on my toes, and kiss his parted lips. They're warm and firm against mine, and for a moment, I dwell in the way my body thrums.

He doesn't move and I open my eyes to see his are closed.

Did I break him? Is he okay? Did he enjoy the kiss?

Then he comes to life, wrapping his arms around me.

"Talia…" he whispers. Well maybe more of a half-groan, half-growl. But it takes me right back to last night listening to Sully pleasure himself.

And then his mouth is on mine, his tongue sliding against my tongue. His hands rove over me and I shudder against his big, hard body. One specific area particularly hard.

He lifts me onto the edge of the counter, and I know I'm getting flour all over my ass. But I don't care.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he presses me even tighter against him, his length is like a steel rod between us.

He groans so deeply as we explore each other's mouths with frantic need, then breaks to kiss down my neck. Sucking on the column of my throat, his growls vibrate straight through to my soaked pussy.

A loud knocking on the door breaks us apart.

Sully pulls me off the counter. "Shit."

He looks frazzled and I start patting the flour off my pants.

Glancing down at the front of his jeans, his cock is still raging.

"I'll go answer the door," I say, when his grumpy expression returns. "You get that thing under control." I joke, but he doesn't even crack a smile.