Free Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) by K.M. Jackson Page B

list,” Gabby continued, “but not a priority. Who knew it would get so hot so fast this season?”
    “You and Steve have a list?” His voice rose incredulously.
    She turned to him. “What’s with the tone? Don’t we seem like list people?”
    He gave the apartment a look and cocked his head to the side. “No. You seem like fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants people.”
    She followed where his eyes went around the apartment then caught his gaze, pulling his attention back to her. Her hands ran languidly along her collarbone, and her tongue darted out along her top lip. “And how would you really know how we fly anyway? I swear, you really are presumptuous.”
    Nick would have thought this was an argument, but she smiled as she said it so he didn’t know how to come back. And really, she was right. How would he know? He frowned, fighting against the urge to stare at her silky expanse of chest, to grab her and kiss that smile right off her face. “Yeah, you’re right. How would I know?”
    Her brows drew together, and he spoke up. “Speaking of the heat, what is it you’re cooking? It’s making my eyes water already.”
    Her eyes got wide as she ran to the stove, lifting the lid on a large pot. “Oh no. I’d almost forgotten. I had a taste for curry. I may have been a little heavy handed with the spices.”
    Nick pulled a face as the strong curry scent seemed to reach up and grab at him.
    “Oh, come on. What, you don’t like a little spice in your life?” Gabby said, turning his way with a teasing grin as she absentmindedly stirred the pot.
    “It’s not that,” he said.
    “Well, what is it then?”
    Nick put his briefcase on the nearby counter chair, since it was the only free spot in the midst of the apartment’s chaos. The sink was over flowing with pots and pans. The counter was covered in spoons and ladles that were dripping with lord only knew what. There was a chopping board with leftover bits of green. Why she didn’t just clean up as she went along? It took all his strength not to strip off his shirt and start cleaning now. As a matter of fact…
    Gabby stopped stirring and stared at him. “Can I ask what the hell you’re doing?”
    His eyes shot up and away from the messy counter. His tie was draped over his briefcase and his shirt was folded and draped over that too and now here he was standing in his white tank almost ready to get fully naked about to clean up a mess that wasn’t even his. He looked at her. “I, um, I was going to clean up the kitchen?”
    “Why?”
    “Because it looks like it needs cleaning.”
    Her brows drew together and a heart-clenching type of concern came across her face. “But it’s not your mess, Nick. You don’t have to do that.” She shrugged and gave a half smile, that took that clench and give it an added twist. “And from your face it’s not like you’re even that keen on sampling my meal. So why worry about it?”
    Nick swallowed.  Why worry about it?  He let her question tumble over in his mind. He knew he was being irrational. Gabby was right. This wasn’t his mess; this was his problem. His own deep-seeded fucked-upness that had plagued him all his life. This need to have order. To have everything perfect. Would he ever, once and for all, be able to just let things lie?
    As he stared back at Gabby’s curious look, the relationship between his father and mother came to mind. How opposite they were. His mother had done her best to try and keep an orderly home, but one that was filled with love and laughter. A haven of warmth. There was always something cooking and some new craft project going. And if things got a little messy in the process, then so be it. She was never one for idle hands, which was one of the reasons she’d always loved Gabby. They seemed to be kindred spirits. So many times he’d found them laughing over a pot on the stove or a needle and thread. The thought brought a pang to his chest. Those little moments of secretly watching