Recipe for Love Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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But then again, we weren’t dating in the normal sense of the word. We were too intimate for strangers. Which was what we were. Strangers. But not.

It felt uncomfortable to feel like I knew him, his body, but not his background.

“You’re close with your family?” I asked.

He smiled, but it was a melancholy kind of smile. “Yeah, always have been. I’m the oldest. Though my sisters cluck over me like they know better than anything I’ve ever learned.” He shook his head good-naturedly. “My father had his own construction business back home in a small town just outside of Bangor. He was the boss. Except in our house. That was my mom. My sisters. Not that either of us minded. Though they couldn’t stop me from deploying. And each one of them tried.”

I could imagine. Not from experience, mind you, but I could feel it in his voice. A loving family. Tight-knit. Two men, both alphas—because Rowan didn’t come from nowhere. I would bet good money his father was one too—submitting to the women they loved. The family that saw their one boy—not that I could ever imagine Rowan being a boy—say he wanted to ship off to a war zone. One where he could be hurt. Maimed. Killed. At worst. And at best, he’d come home changed forever.

“Caused tension. A lot of it,” he continued. “But they were proud. Mom had the bumper stickers, she put up signs in the yard. Sent care packages.” He shook his head again. “Like if she did all that, she’d will me into coming home safe. And if anyone could, it was my mother.”

My throat burned. Not with jealousy over Rowan having that, but with joy. That a mother’s love, pure and good, existed and created this man.

Rowan looked into the fire, something in his eyes telling me he wasn’t seeing the flames but something else, was somewhere else.

I’d not seen that stare on him before. The thousand-yard stare. The one that told me he’d seen things I wouldn’t believe and that those things had followed him. Marked him.

“We went from talking about Practical Magic to me.” He smiled crookedly as he moved his gaze away from the fire.

He wanted off the subject. I understood that. If I stumbled into my past traumas on a night with the crisp fall air, a warm fire and good company, I’d want to stumble right out. There were nights to talk about such things. Then there were nights to relish, enjoy and appreciate that those traumas resided in the past.

“Well, if you know Practical Magic then you know the greenhouse. I want to replicate it… as much as I can.” I nodded to the French doors off my kitchen, where we could see Maggie sleeping peacefully, the curtains blowing gently against her.

“I’ve done a lot,” I admitted, my gaze running over the house, looking through the windows to all that I’d created. “But I don’t know if my skills really translate to adding an entire addition onto my house.”

“Could see it. Move this patio area across.” He gestured to the doors off the living area where I currently had a small vegetable garden. “Because I plan to sit out here with you on many more nights,” he added, making my insides flip.

Plans. Future plans. Ones that warmed me much more than the fire ever could.

I didn’t quite know what to say to that. So, I snuggled closer into his warmth and didn’t say anything at all.

At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep out there because the last thing I remembered was the warmth of the fire, Rowan’s body against mine, and the overwhelming feeling of contentment washing over me.

The next thing I knew, I was pressed against a warm chest, strong arms around me, and we were ascending the stairs.

The clink of dog nails against hardwood floors told me that Maggie was coming with us.

“Did I fall asleep?” I mumbled up at Rowan.

He was grinning as he walked us both into my bedroom and set me down on my feet. “Like a fucking rock,” he replied, brushing hair from my face. “Never seen someone go down that quick or that deep.”

“That’s what she said,” I muttered without thinking.

Rowan stared at me deadpan for a couple of seconds before bursting out laughing. Not just the chuckles I had come to adore, but a full-on belly laugh.

I’d never seen the man laugh before. The smirks at the bakery were what I’d collected over the years. And I had an inkling that this man didn’t laugh often. It was the morose mood that hovered around him that gave me that inkling.

But here he was.

Laughing.

Because I made a stupid joke.

“Fuck, you’re adorable,” Rowan murmured when he’d finished laughing.

I could’ve melted at his feet right there.

But he wasn’t done.

“I’m stayin’ again tonight, Nora,” he said softly.


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