Page 63 of Yours To Take
“Hey!”
“You’re insufferable.”
I tilt the brim of her hat up. Her cheeks have picked up a bit of color in the sun. Oversized waders shouldn’t be as sexy as they are, but Gemma is stunning. I love getting to see her in her element like this.
I lean in closer.
“Are you sure you want to kiss me?”
She puckers up like the fish she just threw back into the river.
“You think the fish scare me?”
“Umm, yes.” There’s a playful gleam in her eyes.
I don’t think twice.
I kiss her.
Fishy lips and all.
ChapterSeventeen
GEMMA
“Are you sure you don’t want to be doing this in the kitchen?” Chef Wayne asks again. “The whole point of the chef’s table is doing it in the kitchen, where I can tell you about each course.”
As I load the last containers into the bag, I glance up at him and smile. “I know all about these meals. I’d rather do it in the comfort of Blake’s cabin.”
He shakes his head at me. “Only because it’s you, Gemma, will I allow it. I hope we don’t get a critical review for this.”
“Now Wayne,”—I cross my arms and pin him with a glare—“do you really think my guest of honor will give you a bad review?”
“If my quail lollipops aren’t served at the right temperature, then yes.”
I drop a kiss on his wrinkly cheek. “It’ll be fine.”
And if it’s not? I can think of multiple ways to distract Blake that will be more fun.
“And you have the good wine?”
“The Domaine Tortochot Burgundy. I have the good wine, Wayne. Now relax.”
“Easy for you to say when you don’t have to prepare dinner for thirty guests.”
“Just another Wednesday night for you.” I wink at him as I head out the door and away from the heavenly scents of his amazing dishes cooking in the kitchen.
One of my favorite parts about the ranch is our ever-expanding menu. We were lucky to find Chef Wayne. He came from a small beach town in Florida and has revolutionized our restaurant.
People come from all over to experience his outlandish cuisine.
Want to try rattlesnake sausage? We have it.
Bison tenderloin? You’ll never want any other kind ever again.
By the time I get to Blake’s cabin, he’s waiting for me on the porch.
My steps stutter as I take him in. He looks relaxed—far different from the tightly wound Blake when he arrived.
