Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate Chapter 26

Carter

When I heard the shower turn off, I started up the stove. I still felt the simmering rage that bristled under my skin, maybe a cold shower would do me good. There was so much I didn’t know, and right now I didn’t even care. I felt her before she came around the corner barefoot and in a cropped tee that exposed the line of her hip bone to just above her belly button and a black skirt with clips and chains that hung from it. Damn! I knew she had a hot body but seeing so much of her soft tanned skin made me salivate. Her damp blonde hair fell around her shoulders. Goddess was she beautiful. Even with the bruising and swelling, I found myself imagining how she looked without it.

Rosie stood beside her bone in mouth and I caught myself wondering how things could be as she strode up to the kitchen island. I inhaled, then inwardly grumbled, her musky sweetness gone. However, she now smelled less of the sour scent her Alpha had left behind, and more like me from the soap and shampoo. That made me just a little smug. I watched her take a seat at the island out of the corner of my eye. Tucker jumped up and I watched her instinctively collect him to her chest. I shook the dirty thoughts off, and forced my mind back to flipping the steaks. Tucker was a great judge of character, so it relaxed my mind a bit. Maybe Jake had a few secrets nobody knew about. Briar was hiding from her demons, but that didn’t make her one. How did I explain that to him though? How did I explain the one sided connection that sometimes felt like two? He didn’t like outsiders, yet we profited on them every day. 

Tucker was like jello in her arms as I began searing the steaks. That cat only liked me and Rosie since Jake left us. The way Rosie watched her had led me to the conclusion that I wasn’t entirely delusional, and there went Tucker just proving the point further. My phone chirped but I again ignored it as I pulled some baked potatoes out of the oven. I grabbed the cheese and sour cream out of the fridge and threw some bacon in a frying pan. I felt her eyes on me as I worked. 

“Can I help with anything?” she asked.

“I got it, but if you’re so inclined, you can start on the salad.” I let her know I was more than willing to take care of it all, but I understood she may feel a bit awkward just sitting there.

“Sure!” she said, hopping up and putting Tucker on the stool before washing her hands. My eyes glanced over at her and I moved to grab the salad fixings out of the fridge. When I turned I just about bumped into her. “I got it,” she said, holding her hands out as I passed them to her. Her eyes skimmed the counter locating the cutting board and the knives. She gathered them and went to work on the lettuce and veggies by the sink where she washed them before chopping them easily. She knew her way around a kitchen, I assumed, and pulled the steaks off to rest, before chopping up the bacon. I went into the fridge for a bottle of dressing and immediately realized I had forgotten it.

“Well, I forgot something,” I said, sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck.

“What?” she asked.

“The salad dressing.”

“I’m sure we can make due with whatever you’ve got around here,” she said, opening a few cabinets pulling out some olive oil and balsamic vinegar, salt pepper, and a few other things from the spice shelf. “You got any garlic or lemon?” she asked, and I rummaged around in the fridge to hand her the lonely lemon and a jar of pre-minced garlic. She pulled out a bowl and started adding things. I went back to chopping my bacon.