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“Hey, sleepyhead. Time to wake up,” Will gently kisses my cheek and I groan, attempting to roll away from him. It’s a no go, Will’s hand pulling me back to him.
“Let me see those beautiful eyes.” I scrunch my eyes shut tighter, attempting to force back a smile. Will grips my face in one large hand and leans over me, his breath fanning out over my face before he kisses me slowly, savoring every moment before he slips his tongue into my mouth. I can’t resist, my hands gripping his biceps as I kiss him back. He pulls back slowly, looking down into my eyes.
“There they are.”
“How do you do that?” I ask, wondering how he got his way again, fully knowing the answer.
He smirks. “Magic, darlin’.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips. “But it is time to get up so we can get the good stuff.”
—----
Within 2 hours, I find myself in front of an organic produce stand, a rather large one, with a few rows of fresh produce. Will stands in front of each bin, picking up various vegetables. Right now, it’s a tomato. He gently squeezes it as he turns it in his hand, his eyes raking over it before he brings it to his nose and takes a sniff. His eyes close momentarily, a slight pause before he puts the tomato in the hand woven basket the farmer had handed us when we first arrived. He does this with everything he picks up, tomatoes, onions, carrots, celery, zucchini, even lettuce.
I, however, am captivated by him.
I love watching him in this mode. He’s focused, trying to find whatever his idea of perfect is for whatever he’s cooking. This time, it’s his world famous minestrone soup (literally world famous - he used to make it when stationed overseas and there was always a line). Eyebrows pinch together in concentration as he gently squeezes and smells each vegetable, his face relaxing when he finds the perfect one, for a moment, bringing him peace.
“Smell this,” he holds out another tomato and I lean in, inhaling a little. While it just smells like tomato to me, I can definitely say this doesn’t smell like a generic grocery store tomato.
“Smells good.”
Will scoffs. “Good? That’s it?”
“This is more your arena. I’m just here to watch you and eat your food.”
Will laughs, his eyes crinkling with it. “I feel so used.”
I lean closer. “Oh, I’ll make sure you feel all used up the moment we get home.”
The tips of his ears redden slightly as he clears his throat. “That’s not appropriate, ma’am. I am a gentleman.”
We pay the farmer, opting to purchase one of the handwoven baskets his daughter had made to raise money for another goat. Will takes the basket in one hand and offers me his arm with the other. I slide my arm around his, my hand reaching up to squeeze his bicep, immediately making me tingle. I lean my head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply.
“Now I know how my tomatoes felt.”
“Violated?”
Will chuckles, but looks down at me. “Loved.”
—----
I sit at the counter, watching Will move about the kitchen, chopping and stirring, adjusting temperatures on the oven. He has a hand towel folded neatly and slung over his shoulder, his forearms tightening as he cops carrots. I would offer to help, but I know better. This is Will’s territory and honestly, I’m content to just watch the show. His focus is intense, adjusting ever little seasoning, making sure the vegetables are cut a specific way. He adds things to a pot, stirring it before smelling the steam coming off of it. He grabs a few more freshly chopped herbs and tosses them in, stirring again. He turns back to the island, facing me again as he resumes chopping carrots, his forearms on full display as the muscles ripple.
“Are you going to get that?”
“What?” I blink, looking up at his eyes. He smiles as he points towards the front door with his knife.
“The door. The guys must be here.”
“The guys?”
Will stares at me. “For dinner? The one we’ve been planning since Santi came back from Colombia?”
“Dinner. Santi. Right.”
Will sets his knife down. “Are you ok? You seem…distracted.”
He knows damn well why I’m distracted. “Me? Nah…nope.” I pop the last sound.
Will grips the towel on his shoulder, sliding it off and setting it on the counter as he moves around the island, standing in front of me. He cups my face, gently kissing me as I grab his forearms, finally getting a chance to run my fingers along them.
“I promise, after they go home, you’ll have my undivided attention. I’ve been thinking about getting into your pants all day.”
“You had time between all the tomato sniffing?”
Will slides his fingers down to my side and squeezes, causing me to yelp when it tickles. “Please get the door. And later, I’ll sniff your tomatoes.” I cock my head sideways as Will sighs. “Yeah, not my best work.”
Knock knock knock!
“Will! Put your pants on and open up!” Benny yells from behind the door.
I turn to go answer it, Will slapping my ass playfully on the way out of the kitchen.
About 30 minutes later, we’re all sitting at the dinner table, everyone laughing and joking around. Santi telling stories about his time in Colombia, reminiscing. But when everyone has their first spoonful of soup, the room goes quiet. The only sounds are spoons clanking against the side of the bowl.
“Fuck, man I missed your cooking. This soup?” Santi pinches his thumb and forefinger together. “Perfect. My favorite. Thanks man.”
Will nods. “We missed you, man.”
Everyone resumes talking then, clanking drinks, laughter, Benny getting up and imitating Frankie flying a helicopter, while Frankie imitates Benny getting punched in the face at one of his MMA fights. I look over at Will as he watches his friends, the smile on his face as Benny trips over his own feet, the absolute love he has for his brothers, poured out not just here, but into the food he took hours and days planning and preparing. He feels me looking at him and turns to meet my gaze, turning his hand palm up on the table. I take it, sliding my hand in his warm one and lean my head on his shoulder, thinking about how lucky I am to be in his life.