Hyper-aware of his presence, she did everything she could to keep her distance. Finn scooted behind her and reached for the fridge door. His leg brushed her dress, shifting it around her rear before the hem settled at the back of her knees. He reached over her shoulder and plucked a bulb of garlic from the pot. His whole body invaded her space, subtle cologne filled her head. He sidled two feet away, snatching a paring knife from the knife block on the way. He was comfortable in the kitchen. In her kitchen. When the pasta was al dente and the sauce bubbled in the pan, he pulled the garlicky bread from the broiler and set it on the counter. She tossed pasta with sauce then sprinkled fresh parsley and shaved parmesan over top. Every time she shot a glance his direction he was staring at her. When she pulled plates from the overhead cupboard, staring. When she fumbled with the forks and they clattered to the counter, staring. She tugged her dress down and smoothed her hair. “Have a seat.
What do You think about It Isn't Cheating If He's Dead?
