Chapter 54

Jenny

I headed downstairs and the scent of roasted chicken hit me. God, I was hungry and it smelled so good. I couldn't cook to save my life, so I think the last time I'd had a home-cooked meal that didn't involve a microwave was when I'd visited Matt in Greensboro last Easter. Before his mind had vacated, Grampy had been a great cook.

Rounding the corner, I stopped inside the kitchen doorway and smiled. A roasting pan was on the stovetop and the small table was set with actual plates instead of paper. Matt was leaning over the island, phone in hand, brow pinched as he stared at the screen. He wore a fitted gray tee that conformed to his lean, muscular biceps and torso, and a pair of jeans that emphasized his perfect ass. He ran his fingers over his lips like he did when deep in thought. The movement never failed to make my girly bits weep.