Always Remember (Memories) (18 page)

Lexy snorts. “Yes, Alec, because you
’re Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen.”

“I burnt it once, Princess! Once!”

“I’ve been known to burn toast on occasion,” Dad pipes in. “It’s easy to forget about.”

Lexy puts her fork down. “You do your toast in the grill. Alec was using a toaster set to the third setting. How do you burn toast on the third setting?”

“Actually,” Jen muses. “It’s possible. One piece of toast will go more than two pieces.”

“I made two pieces,” Alec mutters, stabbing his fork into his pasta.

“Oh, well, then, ha!” Jen laughs. “You suck.”

“Says the ready-meal queen.”

“At least I can make toast without burning it.”

“I made Lexy spaghetti and meatballs once. That was edible.”

“After you’d burnt the spaghetti.” Lexy laughs.

I grin. “It
’s a good job I can cook. If I couldn’t, I think Jen would probably have me starve.”

“No. You
’d just be eating an awful lot of ready meals which, aren’t actually that good.” She thinks for a second. “Huh. Now I have the washing machine mastered, I should probably get on that cooking thing.”

“You can do bacon. And eggs.” I kick her under the table, and she coughs.

“Yep. But that’s not hard to cook.” She looks down.

“I feel like I
’m missing something,” Mum says, looking between us.

Lexy reaches over and pats her arm gently.
“If you’re missing it, then you probably don’t want to know it, Mum.”

~

I wander aimlessly through Tesco. I said I’d cook – but no-one told me
what
to cook, and I have no fuckin’ idea what to make. What am I supposed to cook?

Wait. Am I supposed to take wine and flowers? Where is Alec when I need some help?

I stare at the different types of pasta, pull out my phone, and dial his number. It rings and goes to voicemail. I try it again and the same thing happens. Shit. Looks like I’m going on my gut feeling… And that says yes to flowers and wine. Right.

I manoeuvre the trolley back round, still mulling over what to cook, and head towards the flowers. I
’m greeted by too many types and colours to count. Right.

Let
’s just go for roses – but not red. Pink, because pink is Jen’s favourite colour.

I scour my eyes over the display, finally finding some pink flowers, and put them in the holder at the end of the trolley. The wine is easy – Vino. Always Vino.
I grab a bottle from the shelf, and turn my attention back to the food.

Alec said he
’d made Lexy meatballs and spaghetti. It’s simple, but I guess I could that. Does that count as copying? Well, maybe, but I’m not exactly a walking cookbook, am I?

I grab all the ingredients from the shelves, pay at the checkout, and load it into my car. On the way to Jen
’s, I glance at the clock about a million times. I have to beat her home.

I
’m as nervous as a drug user being searched. Shit.

I let myself into her flat with
Lexy’s spare key, and look around. It’s deadly silent. I glance at the clock again. I have an hour to cook and get everything ready before she’ll be back from Uni.

I set the bags on the table, shrug my coat off, and roll up my sleeves. My eyes travel over the numerous bags, settling on the flowers lying in front of them.

Let’s do this.

~

My nose twitches. Why is there a food smell coming from my flat? A very nice food smell.

Bing said he was
gonna cook. No. He can’t be…

I slip my key into the lock, turn
it, and open the door. I stop, my gaze being drawn to the table. Pale pink roses sit between two place settings and two wine glasses are full.

Bing turns, wooden spoon
in hand, and grins. His brown eyes twinkle, and he flicks some hair away from his face with a shake of his head. I open my mouth, close it again, and open it again.

“What?” I ask.

“I said I’d cook.” He stirs whatever is smelling so yummy, his eyes still on me. “So I’m cooking.”

“But this…” I shut the door behind me and drop my bag. “…This is like proper date-dinner cooking.”

He shrugs a shoulder casually. “I figured if I was gonna cook, I was gonna do it properly.” His mouth curls into a half-grin “But I forgot dessert.”

I slide my coat off and hang it up. “I
’m sure you “forgot” it, Samuel.”

“I did!” he protests, putting the wooden spoon down. “But I would prefer you for dessert, I won
’t lie.”

He crosses the small kitchen and scoops an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. My hands press against his chest, and he brushes the pad of his thumb down my cheek before dipping his head and kissing me softly. I slide my hands to the back of his neck, link my fingers, and stand on my tiptoes to meet him.

I nip his bottom lip, slowly running my tongue over the same spot after. A low groan rumbles in his chest, and I smile a little against his lips. His fingers dig into the small of my back, and the hand resting on my cheek moves into my hair. He holds my lips against his and slips his tongue into my mouth, sweeping the inside of it. My body automatically pushes against his, feeling the hard muscle there, and heat sweeps through me. If it wasn’t for the-

“Something
’s burning,” I mutter.

“Fuck!” Bing releases me and turns, grabbing the wooden spoon again. He scratches at the bottom of the pan with it, scraping the stuck spaghetti off, and turns the cooker off. He turns to me with a sheepish grin, and I raise an eyebrow

“So much for being Gordon Ramsey,” I quip, sliding into my seat at the table.

“You distracted me,” he mumbles, draining the spaghetti and serving it up first. “I saved it, don
’t worry.”

I smile a little as he places meatballs on top. “Meatballs? Isn
’t that what Alec made Lexy?”

He shoots me a glance over his shoulder. “You haven
’t had any meatballs until you’ve had mine.”

I run my tongue across my teeth, grinning wickedly. “I think I
’ve had your meatballs, Samuel. Plenty of times.”

He puts a plate in front of me, his face coming level with mine. “Close your mouth, or we
’ll skip straight to dessert.”

A tantalising tomato smell reaches my nose, and I pick up my fork. “I
’m starved. Dessert will have to wait.”

A smirk graces his lips as he sits opposite me.
“Are you sure? We could always heat this up later.” His eyes tell me that something will be getting heated up later either way.

I stab my fork into a meatball and bite into it. “I
’m sure,” I say around my food. “I need energy for dessert.”

He stretches his feet out under the table until they meet mine. “Oh, so we
’ve agreed on what’s for dessert?”

“This is really nice,” I interrupt. “What did you put in that sauce?” I twirl some spaghetti.

“Jennifer…” He fights his smile, but his cheek twitches slightly.

“These are the best meatballs I
’ve ever had,” I carry on, holding in my amusement. “By far.”

His eyes darken a shade. “I told you you
’d never had meatballs till you’d had mine.”

I close my mouth around a meatball, pulling it from my fork. I chew it slowly, my eyes trained on Bing
’s. “I’d say I’m very, very fond of your meatballs.” I grin.

He swallows and sets his fork down next to his plate. “How about I show you how you should really twirl spaghetti?”

“I’m not getting the sexual innuendo, if you were attempting one.”

Bing pushes away from the table and stands, his lips curved upwards and a predator-like gleam in his eye. I know this look, and it instantly sets my body on overdrive. He stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, slipping his fingers under the straps of my top.

“Twirling spaghetti straps, babe,” he mutters, his lips by my ear. He slides the strap over my shoulder and down my arm. “Twirling them right off of you.”

I breathe in, his skin red hot on mine. “I thought we were waiting for dessert.”

“We were. But I think I want dessert first.” He kisses my shoulder, his lips warm from the meal.

“It
’s rude not to eat at the table,” I mumble, turning my head into his.

My chair jerks backwards. Bing steps in front of me, his hands on the back of my chair, boxing me in. My heart flutters erratically, and my lips part as he moves closer. I tilt my face up towards his.

“Who said we had to leave the table?” he whispers huskily. I shiver a little, looking into his eyes. I raise my hands up and grip his shirt, pulling him closer to me.

I brush my lips across his, wrapping my legs around his and holding him in place.

“Who indeed?”

~

I rest my head against Bing’s chest, feeling the beating of his heart beneath my ear. His arms slip around my waist, and I snuggle in closer, basking in the warmth of him.

“I like your date nights,” I mumble.

He chuckles slightly, and his lips touch my forehead. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have a problem with us making them a regular thing.”

Now we
’re freaking talking.

“I might start liking you too much if that happens.” I tilt my head back and look up at him. “I
’m still too busy deciding if I like you or not.”

“
Oi,” he growls, flipping me onto my back. He leans over me, and I run my hands down his sides.

“What?” I blink at him innocently.

“If you don’t like me, I might have to start taking drastic action, Jennifer.” He kisses along my neck, grazing his teeth across my pulse slightly.

“Uh-huh?” I breathe. “Like what?”

He smiles against my skin. “Drastic action would be keeping you here, pinned beneath me in this bed while I give you a thousand reasons to like me.”

“In that case, I solemnly swear to never, ever like you. Not even for a second.”

“Is that so?” he murmurs, lowering his body on top of mine.

“Absolutely. You didn
’t give me enough reasons last night.”

“I better get started then.” His hand travels down my side to my hip, before slipping under me and cupping my ass. His fingers massage me slowly as his lips find mine-

“Who the fuck is at my door?” I growl as my doorbell rings insistently.

“Ignore them.”

The doorbell goes several more times, and I sigh. “That would be your sister,” I tell him, kissing him soundly. He mutters a curse at Lexy under his breath, rolling off of me.

I climb from my bed and cross the room to my dressing gown. Bing whistles long and low, and I glance over my shoulder with a small amused smile. I snatch my gown and wrap it around my body, pulling the door open.

“I preferred the other view!” he yells. I stick my middle finger at him and walk backwards.

I grab my keys from the side and unlock the door, yanking it open.
Lexy’s eyes travel up and down me, taking in my gown, and finally meet mine.

“I
’m sorry, I’m not exactly dressed for early morning visitors,” I say dryly. “I wasn’t expecting a dawn wake up call.”

“It
’s not dawn. It’s eight a.m.” She pushes past me.

“What are you, a freaking cockerel?” I push the door shut and pad across the kitchen to my kettle. I need coffee.

And if I’m willing to drink coffee, you know I had a damn good night. Wink wink.

“No need for me to be one,” she retorts. “Considering Bing never made it home last night, I
’d say there’s more than enough cock in the flat.”

I rest my forehead against a cupboard door, shaking slightly with laughter.

“I heard that!” Bing shouts from my room. “Watch it, baby sis!”

“Good morning, brother, dear.” Lexy grins, leaning back against the counter as a now-dressed Bing emerges from my room.

“It would have been had you not showed up,” he throws at her, winking at me.

Lexy purses her lips. “Well, Jen has to get to
Uni in a few hours, so you’re gonna have to save it for later.”

“Or you could leave and come back in a few hours, and I
’ll finish what I was just starting.”

I hand him a cup. “Shush,
gobshite.” I turn to Lexy and hand her a cup. “You, shush, too.” I take my own cup and sip the coffee.

This stuff tastes like b
anana peel dipped in wax crayon with a hint of sugar mixed in.

“That
’s not what you were saying ten minutes ago.” Bing slides next to me on the counter, and I elbow him.