LINDEN

I could watch her all day. Even the way she twirled the pasta with the fork looked appealing. Nothing sexier than your woman enjoying your food, licking her lips, her eyes lighting up. I took it as a compliment.

After dinner, she volunteered to clean the kitchen, but I refused. “I know what to do.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I don’t like someone touching my kitchen.”

She came beside me with her fist on her hip as I loaded the dishwasher. “Don’t tell me you named your knife after a great samurai or your favorite pot after Gordon Ramsey.”

I laughed out loud. “I do have a favorite...