Just Add Heat (6 page)

Chapter Six

I grabbed a pair of black
yoga pants off the shelf and snatched a red tee shirt before walking over to my
dresser to grab a fresh pair of panties only to encounter stacks of folded
boxer briefs in various colors. I reached down to touch them but jerked my hand
back at the last second. That was just wrong. Clearly
I
am the pervert. Who runs their fingers over someone’s underwear?

I opened the drawer that
used to be for my night wear. Bingo. Panties were staring back at me this time.
I grabbed the first pair I saw and put them on, threw off the robe, and pulled
on my clothes. Dressed, I didn’t feel that I was as vulnerable. Not that I
thought Carter was going to take advantage of me, but it made me feel better.

I walked back to the
bathroom and Carter was no longer standing in the hallway. Good. I opened the
cabinet that had all of my beauty essentials, basically brushes and hair ties,
and pulled out a brush with soft bristles. I still hadn’t detangled my hair,
and I could tell that getting all the knots out was going to hurt and I didn’t
want to press my luck with the lump on my head. I pulled my hair out of the
scrunchie and started gently working the brush through it, not an easy task in
its greasy state. I really needed to wash it, but I was going to have to wait
on that.

When I had
gotten my hair as nice as it was going to get, I brushed my teeth and braced
myself to go back out to the living room. When was I going to stop having to
brace myself to do something? This had been the most stressful twenty four
hours of my life. I was feeling drained mentally and physically.

All I wanted was to flop
down on the couch, but I noticed Carter sitting there with his head thrown
back, asleep with Lucy curled up next to him. I took the chance to observe him
covertly. He was beautiful—I’d always thought so. When I first met him he was a
bit gangly, but even then I could tell he was going to be a good looking man.
Granted, he was only fourteen at the time, but he already looked like a model
for some kind of perfume company. You know the kind of ads they shoot in black
and white? Anyway, now he looked like every woman’s fantasy. His body had
filled out and his face had become more angular. His mouth, oh his mouth was
gorgeous. It always looked like it was on the verge of smiling.

I found myself staring at
his mouth. I could almost imagine it kissing my lips and enveloping my nipple.
I imagined meeting his eyes as he looked up at me from between my legs.
What the hell?
I shivered, not knowing
for sure if I was imagining the image or remembering.

I made my
way closer to the couch and Lucy looked up at me and thumped her tail. It made
Carter open his eyes so I guess he wasn’t sleeping after all. I could feel the
blush spreading over my face as I was caught staring at him.

“I’m a
little hungry, you?” I asked him as nonchalantly as possible. I needed to get
into the kitchen and cook something; sometimes it was the only thing that
soothed my mind.

“I could
eat. I haven’t really been that hungry since your accident. Do you want me to
call something in?”

“No, I feel like cooking.
I’ll go see what’s in the fridge.” I walked past him into the kitchen to peruse
the offerings in the refrigerator. Hmm, I had plenty of vegetables and cheeses,
but I was in the mood for Mexican food, maybe tomatilla enchiladas. It was one
of my favorites, and it took a while to make, thereby killing two birds with
one stone. I checked my supplies. The way my luck was running I wouldn’t even
have tortillas. Score! I still kept my pantry stocked with all the essentials.
I picked up everything I needed and set it all down on the counter, grabbing
the pans that I would use off of the pot rack over the island. For the first
time since yesterday I felt a sense of normalcy. My whole body started to relax
as I began chopping onions and garlic and heating up the cookware. I had been
at it for a while when I heard Carter come up behind me.

“Do you
want any help?” My body shivered as I recalled my thoughts of just a bit ago.

The
question made me pause. I enjoyed cooking by myself, but I didn’t want to be
rude to Carter. “You could grate the cheese,” I told him as I motioned to the
fridge. “I need the Monterey Jack, oh and get out the sour cream as well.” I
slipped into chef mode as I directed him to do my bidding. He opened the door
and I heard the drawers sliding open as he gathered the ingredients. He looked
over at me where I stood peeling the paper from the tomatillas.

“Mmm.
Green enchiladas?”

“Yep. I
felt like Mexican.” He set the items down and opened the cabinet in front of
him, pulling out the yellow bowl I always used for mixing up the creamy sauce I
poured on the enchiladas. “How did you know that I needed that bowl?” I asked
him curiously.

“You always use this
bowl. Actually,
I
always use this
bowl because it’s alway
s my
job to
mix up the sauce.”

I stared
at him for a moment. Just how many times have we stood here making this dish
together? Obviously he had done this enough times to recognize the dish by the
ingredients. No one ever helped me cook in my home kitchen. This is where I
come to relax. I didn’t mind Cheryl so much, she just sat on a stool at the
island and talked to me, but to have Carter be so familiar and me not actually
minding that much was peculiar.

“Uh, then
I guess you know what to do,” I said lamely. He reached over to grab wooden
spoon from the container in front of me and his proximity sent my senses on
alert. He smelled amazing. The combination of his cologne and his manliness,
mixed with the smells of the kitchen were like a trinity of awesomeness.

He took the grater out of
the drawer and started on the cheese, and I couldn’t help but notice the
muscles in his forearm. They were taut and well defined, but not bulging like
some weight lifter. Mmm. I pulled myself out of my momentary daze and got back
to work on my food.

Before I knew it, I was
popping the pan of enchiladas into the oven. Carter and I had worked mostly in
silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It would have been harder for me to try and
make conversation instead of giving myself a mental break and concentrating on
my dish.

While it
baked I started cleaning up the huge mess that always accompanied this recipe,
and that’s when it happened. I was standing at the sink and rinsing out a bowl
when I turned to pick up the dish cloth from the counter and found myself chest
to chest with Carter. I wasn’t wearing a bra so as soon as my nipples scraped
against him they stood to attention. I don’t know what made me do it, but I
pressed my face into his chest and sniffed his shirt. It smelled so good that I
leaned in closer, until my forehead was up against him. He let out a quiet moan
and I jerked my head back.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped,
appalled at myself. My blush of earlier had nothing on my flaming cheeks now. I
busied myself with the bowl again and waited for him to step away, but he
didn’t. I scooted over to the side, just enough to break contact with him. I
had to get myself under control. What the heck did I just do? Did I actually
sniff
him? Oh god, what am I doing? He’s
too young for me. I’m like some cougar. Well, no, I’m not that much older than
him, maybe more like a bob cat.

What had
possessed me? I stood there in acute embarrassment until he reached forward and
touched my arm. “I like it when you smell me. You do it a lot. It’s one of your
things.”

One of my things?
Do I now go around sniffing on people? What kind of freak
had I become? I must have looked horrified because he stepped closer. “I love
it, actually.” He leaned down to me as I stood there like I was hypnotized. His
lips were on mine in the next second and I felt an electric jolt go from my
lips to my chest to my belly button. I didn’t even think as I opened my mouth to
him. He put his hand on the back of my head and held me close. I was lost in
sensation until I dropped the metal bowl I still had clutched in my hand, and
it clattered into the sink making me jump and break the kiss.

I shook my head to clear
my thoughts. That felt good. It felt like a first kiss, with my stomach
tingling, but it also felt comfortable. I realized I was holding my breath, so
I dragged in some air. Wow, he’s a good kisser. I needed to step back and look
at this situation. For all intents and purposes, we hadn’t even gone on a date
yet. It was as if someone you kind of know and are talking with starts kissing
you out of the blue. You’re surprised, even taken aback, but in the back of
your mind you’re thinking “Hmm. I wondered what kissing him would be like.” If
it’s someone good looking you might even take the thought further and imagine
sex. Or maybe that’s just me.

Anyway, I did the only
sensible thing I could do in this situation—I dashed out of the kitchen. I know
it was cowardly, but I didn’t care. I just had to get out of there, taking
refuge in my bedroom. I flopped down on the bed and tried to bring my breathing
back to normal. It didn’t work. Even here I was confronted with Carter.

There was a picture of
the two of us on the night stand, next to the old fashioned alarm clock. A
button down shirt was tossed over the chair in the corner. The comforter on the
bed was also not as I remembered. It was brown like my old one, but it was a
lot darker and puffier. I closed my eyes and tried to get my bearings. Okay, so
kissing Carter wasn’t such a bad thing. What was I freaking out about? Sure, it
was all new, but it wasn’t
bad
. I
could, in some alternate reality, see myself possibly becoming involved with
him. Unfortunately, I was in
this
reality.
The reality where I was a thirty year old woman with amnesia and Carter was my
best friend’s little brother. Well, younger anyway, he was definitely larger
than Cheryl.

So I sat there feeling
sorry for myself. I felt sorry about not working at the restaurant, I felt
sorry about hurting Carter’s feelings, but mostly I felt sorry about having no
memory of the past two years. I couldn’t remember the good times or the bad. I
looked over at the clock. Shit, the enchiladas would be ruined. I jumped up and
hurried into the kitchen only to be met with a pan of perfectly cooked
enchiladas sitting on the stovetop. I skidded to a stop. The kitchen was
spotless. Carter had scrubbed the pans, done the dishes, and put everything
away. So, apparently he was some perfect guy, he cooks, he cleans, he’s
helpful, and most importantly, he’s hot. Well, maybe not most importantly, but
it’s pretty darn important to me. So yeah, he looked good on paper, but if
everything’s so awesome, why couldn’t I remember living with him? It all came
back to that.

I went to the pantry; I
was craving some Mexican rice to eat with the enchiladas. I grabbed a jar of my
favorite salsa to pour in and pulled down a pot. I hadn’t even opened the bag
of rice before Carter was back in the kitchen.