Don't Bite the Bridesmaid

But finally, she couldn’t resist the urge. He still held her on the counter—an oddly comfortable position.

“This probably broke at least five laws.”

“Laws?” he said.

“Kitchen cleanliness laws. Or food handling ones. Or something.”

He laughed into her hair and stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. “Well, I don’t remember handling any food while we were—”

“Yes, but food is definitely handled here.” She snickered. “I’ve never—”

“Me either.”

She forced herself onto an elbow and looked up at him. “Really? No crazy locales for you?”

“Nope. Well, none so publicly kitchen-oriented. I can’t say that lasagna’s ever had this effect on me before.” He smiled and kissed her softly. “Guess it must be the chef.”

“I am an excellent chef,” she lied. Lasagna was her only real forte when it came to cooking. But now that she’d found the kitchen so versatile, she could imagine spending a lot more time in it.

“You’re thinking evil thoughts.”

“Am not.” She rolled off the counter and then shot him a wicked grin. “You can’t prove a thing.”

He chuckled and followed her, grabbing her before she could go far. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The lasagna—”

“Can wait.”

He kissed her then, so tenderly that she couldn’t help but melt against him. They were both breathing hard when she finally pulled away, and her whole body was hot and achy. How could she want him so much only moments after she’d felt so satisfied?

“Crap!” She stepped away from Noah, regretting the loss of his heat. She avoided his eyes, which were still dark with passion. Maybe if she didn’t look directly at him, she’d be able to resist. Concentrate. It was worth a shot. “Do you smell that? God, is it burning?”

She didn’t wait for a response, instead, she ran for the oven. “Oh no. I forgot about the foil.” She pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it on the stove. Hands still in the oven mitts, she tugged off the aluminum foil and stared at the lasagna in disgust.

“It doesn’t look badly burned,” Noah observed.

“It’s not too bad, I guess. Just a little around the edges. But it’s definitely not going to have any texture now. All mushy. Which is okay for lasagna, I just hope it didn’t get too much moisture.” She tossed the oven mitts onto the counter and sighed heavily. “And there’s no time to really do anything about it. So I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Quickly, they straightened up their clothes and hair as well as they could without a mirror, relying on each other for feedback. Then Alice had Noah help her scoop lasagna onto plates.

“Only feeding eight people tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.” She counted off on her fingers. “You and me. Mom and Jake. Cindy, Robert, his cousin…oh I can’t think of his name, and his wife.”

“That’s only six.” He leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the nose. “Has amazing sex overrun your ability to count? Too many orgasms?”

She giggled and slapped at him. “Brent and Kristen. They’re the last two.”

A darkness fell over his face and the amusement there faltered. She punched him in the arm. “You can’t honestly be worried about Brent after—”

“No, of course not,” he said, too quickly. “Just makes things a little more tense is all.”

She debated telling him about Brent’s apology, if only to clarify why she wasn’t feeling as annoyed as he was about the man joining them for dinner. But that was a long conversation, one that would no doubt require delving into her past and dredging up details she didn’t feel like thinking about, let alone discussing with Noah. Not right this second anyway, when everything felt so perfect. Besides, they didn’t have that much time to talk much before dinner.

A loud knock pulled her from her thoughts.

“Oh no, the salad,” she exclaimed, holding a plate of lasagna in each hand.

“I’ll take care of the salad. You get out there with the lasagna before it cools and let them in before they break the door down,” Noah said.

She gave him a wary glance, but he approached the romaine with confidence and actually started washing it in front of her, so she headed out into the dining room. She dropped off the first couple of plates, then went to get the door. And for the first time, she was thankful her family was nearly always late to everything, or just barely on time. If they’d come early…. Her cheeks burned at the thought.

The dinner guests were all waiting on the porch, standing around a mat that proclaimed they were welcome, with the waves crashing onto the beach behind them. They chattered happily as they piled in and headed for the table. Alice swallowed hard at the thought of them all waiting out here while she and Noah had…well thank goodness no one had knocked. Unless—no, they would have heard a knock, right? Thank God the door locked.

Her mom got up as soon as she approached. “Let me help you.”

“If you want to go to the kitchen and grab some plates, that would be great.”

Her mom nodded and headed for the kitchen. Alice dropped off the first two plates and declined further help from her sister and Brent. “Not much else is coming, just lasagna and a salad,” she said.

“Don’t need anything else with your lasagna,” Cindy replied, her eyes fixed on the plate in front of her.

She gave her sister a smile and then spun around and headed for the kitchen. Her mom appeared with a couple of plates, and Noah was right on her heels with a salad that looked oddly professional. He carried a stack of bowls in his other hand.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she passed him. His eyebrows moved up in acknowledgment.

With the lasagna delivered and the salad on the large oak table, they sat to eat. Alice felt surprisingly good, considering the near disaster she and Noah had averted. And everyone murmured over how delicious the lasagna was. Thank goodness her family was okay with casual dinners, no one even seemed to notice she didn’t serve anything in courses, and she’d completely forgotten appetizers.

The house felt homey, with its light tile floors and bright, festively painted walls. And other than a few pieces of furniture that had been swapped out for more modern choices, it looked largely unchanged from the old pictures her mom still kept on her mantle. The table looked like it had been around a while, as did the matching chairs. The oak was nicked and a bit outdated, and the chairs had small pads tied to them to make them more comfortable, but the idea that her father might have actually eaten there was comforting.

“Is this a new thing you’re doing?” Cindy asked, halfway into her lasagna serving.

Noah’s hand stilled over his lasagna

“What’s that?” Alice asked, keeping her voice nonchalant. Her mother watched her with interest, and Robert seemed to be having trouble keeping his expression serious.

“It’s not as…I’m not sure what.” Cindy looked like she was searching her thoughts, but Alice knew what her sister looked like when she was making mischief. And something was definitely up. “Not as much texture on the top, I guess. Like you forgot to take off the foil.”

Look innocent. No one will be able to say anything if you don’t give them the bait. “Must not have taken the foil off fast enough, I guess.” She turned her gaze to the chandelier above them. The pieces of cut glass forming the light fixture were plain, but pretty. “Is that the same chandelier, Mom?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

“So unlike you to miss a detail. Strange,” Cindy said, then shoved a mouthful of the lasagna between her lips.

Alice glared daggers at her sister. “Doesn’t seem to be bothering you much.” She mentally dared her to say something else, but Cindy just grinned as she chewed. Robert coughed into a napkin, his sudden fit sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter.

The attack came from a new direction.

“Is that ricotta in your hair, dear?” her mother asked.

Alice’s eyes widened and she resisted the urge to swipe madly at her hair while Cindy half-laughed, half-choked into her cloth napkin. Her mother’s face remained a picture of virtue and concern. But then, she had more practice at feigning innocence than her daughters.

Kristen smiled widely while Robert gave up on hiding hid laughter. Brent stabbed at his lasagna like it had done something to piss him off.

She started when she felt something touching her hair, and then gave Noah a grateful glance as he plucked a chunk of cheese out of one of her curls. Their eyes met, and his darkened. She drew in a quick breath, and a slow grin overtook his face while she watched.

“Must have been flinging the cheese around back there.” He turned to their very interested audience. “She was in a rush to make sure the lasagna was done in time and perfect.”

“Of course,” her mom agreed, but mischief danced in her eyes.

“I’m quite the chef, you know,” Alice said, playing along with Noah’s story.

Cindy laughed outright then, almost choking on the bite of lasagna she’d been chewing. Robert, his expression a mix of amusement and concern, patted her back as she struggled.

“More tea?” Alice asked sweetly once Cindy had her coughing fit under control. She held out the pitcher. Cindy shook her head, but an evil look still danced in her eyes.

“Are you all right, dear?” Her mom asked.

Cindy nodded and shoved another bite of lasagna in her mouth.

“Of course, Noah made the salad.” Alice picked out a grape tomato and bit into it, relishing the flavor as it exploded in her mouth. “It’s great.”

“It’s wonderful, dear,” her mother assured him. Noah nodded in thanks.

“You are a very good chef, Alice,” her mother continued. She leaned in and whispered so only Alice could hear her. “And that cheese flinging explains the mess in the kitchen, too. Would you believe it looked like a half-full container of ricotta got away from you? I found it on the floor.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">