Page 15 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
WILLOWCaven: Let’s play a game of Would You Rather?I grinned and put my paintbrush down.Me: You have my attention.
Caven: Would you rather eat cheesecake or tiramisu?
Me: I’m not sure you understand how this game works. It’s supposed to be two difficult choices both with pros and cons.
Caven: Okay. Let me give it another go. Would you rather eat cheesecake in twenty minutes or tiramisu in twenty-one?
Me: Oh wow. That’s tough. On one hand, it’s tiramisu. On the other, I’d have to wait a whole minute longer to eat it. How will I ever decide?
Caven: What if I tell you I will be accompanying the dessert so you’d have to wait a whole minute without me?
Me: You’ll be accompanying the dessert? Why? Are they out of ranch?
Caven: I’m getting both because you suck at this game. Alejandra asked if she could take Rosalee to a movie. So I decided to order dessert and crash whatever you had planned for tonight.True to his word, bright and early on Monday morning, sexy businessman Caven Hunt had arrived wearing a mouthwatering suit and a grumpy scowl that almost made me feel bad for my crappy contractor. I wasn’t sure what happened in my backyard that day. From my vantage point of the upstairs window, peeking through the blinds, I saw Caven standing stoic as ever while the contractor’s mouth never stopped moving. Caven said no more than three sentences before turning on a toe and marching to my back door. I opened it. He told me that my studio would be done in ten days, they would be upgrading my flooring and windows free of charge, and he had an inspector that would come by a few times to make sure they weren’t rushing through the process. After that, he kissed me on the cheek and informed me that we were having tacos for dinner at his place. Then, just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone.
No smiling.
Or lip twitches.
But damn if Businessman Caven Hunt wasn’t sexy as hell.
It was now Friday night. And while I’d seen Caven on Monday night for tacos, then again on Wednesday while Rosalee and I played with potato stampers, and I was slated to see him again the next day for Rosalee’s art class, the idea of him coming over to spend time with me, alone, was more than enough to send me sprinting up the stairs for a shower. But as I ran, I typed out my reply.Me: Lucky for us both I have no life and I love cheesecake.
Caven: I guess I’ll be seeing you in twenty minutes then.I’d decided to slow things down with Caven after my conversation with Beth in hopes of us developing more than just a physical connection—and also to buy myself time to figure out how in the hell I was ever going to explain away my scar.
It was hard. Excruciating, really. While he’d more than proven that he wanted me physically, I’d been in love with that man for the majority of my life. It didn’t matter one bit that I didn’t know his favorite color or what he did in his spare time. I knew that he was good, honest, caring, and kind. I knew that he’d risked his life for a little girl. And I knew his world started and ended with his daughter. I didn’t need to know anything else.
But I did need to shave my damn legs because, while slowing down meant not stripping his clothes off the second he walked through the door, it thankfully didn’t mean he would keep his hands to himself.
Twelve minutes later, I pulled the door open and found him standing on the other side. It was Casual Caven in low-slung jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and showed off that sexy tattoo.
“What happened to my twenty minutes?” I asked, securing the end of my wet braid with a hair tie.
He grinned and gave me a quick head-to-toe, the wolfish curl of his lips signaling his approval of my sleep shorts and tank top.
“You sounded desperate for me in your text, so I came as fast as I could.”
My eyebrows shot up my makeup free face. “Oh, did I now?”
He walked in carrying a paper bag in one hand, trailing his fingertips across my stomach as he passed. He set the bag on the bar in my kitchen, and removed two white boxes, and two sets of plastic cutlery.
I went straight to my pantry and pulled out a bag of pretzels before dumping them into a bowl.
He eyed me curiously. “What are those for?”
“To dip in the cheesecake.”
His eyes did a slow blink. “What is it with you and dipping random food?”
“I think I have lazy taste buds. I don’t taste sweets after the first bite unless I mix it with something salty.” I lifted a pretzel in the air and scraped off the top of the New York-style cheesecake. Then I popped it into my mouth. He watched in disgust as I chewed with a grin. “Don’t look at me like that. Pretzels covered in pretty much anything are widely accepted. It’s not like I’m dipping my pizza in birthday cake or anything. Though you should be warned that’s another favorite of mine.”
