Chapter 190: Stirring the Heat

Now that she had officially taken on the GloryPath Construction project, Summer needed to start preparing contracts and follow-up details. It was time to get Merry moving on the next steps.

Over the phone, Merry sounded hesitant. “Summer, what about Sienna? What should we do about her?”

Summer remembered Fraser’s promise—he said he’d look into it, and she believed him. That was why she’d had the confidence to take on the project in the first place.

“I’ve already got someone checking into Mason,” Summer told Merry. “We should have answers soon. Let’s just move forward as planned.”

After ending the call, Summer stared at her phone for a moment, lost in thought. When did this happen? When did I start relying on him so much? Trusting him this much? She’d never even felt this way about Trevor.

The realization unsettled her. Fraser came out of the bedroom, fresh from a shower. He was wearing a black T-shirt and gray lounge pants. His damp hair was still dripping, and a white towel hung around his neck as he casually dried it off. He leaned lazily against the kitchen doorway.

In the kitchen, her hair was swept up into a loose bun, revealing the pale curve of her neck—graceful and poised. She stood with her head slightly bowed, completely focused on making dinner. The warm kitchen light cast a soft glow over her. The shirt dress she wore highlighted her tall, elegant figure. Her profile was soft and serene, her movements smooth and sure—every step in the kitchen was practiced and graceful. She looked effortlessly beautiful, relaxed, and completely at ease.

Fraser walked over slowly, each step confident and unhurried. He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin gently on her shoulder. His voice was low, rough, and teasing. “What’s for dinner?”

Summer was pan-searing steaks when she suddenly felt his warmth at her back—the solid weight of his body pressing gently into hers. Before she could react, he had her in his arms. Fraser still smelled fresh from the shower—clean soap layered with that familiar trace of pine that rushed through her senses.

For a split second, her mind blanked. The spatula in her hand slipped slightly, and hot oil nearly splashed from the pan. Fraser caught her hand just in time and flipped the steak himself. “Careful. Don’t zone out while cooking.”

“Seriously? You’re the one who showed up out of nowhere and distracted me. You should go. I’ve got it handled.”

“Didn’t know you could cook,” he said, still standing close.

Summer had actually picked it up years ago—back when she was with Trevor. But knowing how intense and possessive Fraser could be, she decided not to mention that part.

Summer stared at him, speechless. Just then, her phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message. With the spatula still in her hand, Summer said, “Can you check that for me? I can’t grab it right now.”

Fraser picked up her phone from the counter and, without hesitation, unlocked it with a swipe. Summer blinked. “Wait, how do you know my passcode? I didn’t tell you.”

“I guessed.”

Summer pouted. I couldn’t even begin to guess yours.

Fraser casually said, “1115.”

Summer froze just as she was about to turn off the stove. That was her birthday. She was just about to ask why—why he’d use her birthday as his password—when he spoke again.

“It’s from your assistant.”

Summer snapped out of it. “Oh, I’ll reply to her later.”

It was probably Merry updating her on work.

Fraser was about to lock the phone again when something on the screen caught his eye. The name on the screen was “Jerk.” His brow lifted slightly. Then, without warning, he leaned in and gently bit her earlobe. “I’m the jerk?”

“Ah—” She gasped softly. It didn’t hurt, but the light, teasing pressure sent a tingle straight down her spine. Only then did she remember the nickname she’d set for him a while back.

“That was just—” Summer started to explain, then gave up with a huff. “Well, you’re always teasing me. What else was I supposed to call you?”

Fraser tapped the screen again, casually opening the chat. And then, without warning, his eyes landed on a message.

“It’s thundering. I’m scared.”

His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at those words. He didn’t remember ever getting that message. Then it clicked. That day. Maximus collapsed with a sudden brain bleed. Fraser had rushed to donate blood. His phone, along with his clothes, had been handed off to the staff.

A heavy silence fell between them. Summer quietly finished plating the steak, setting it on a white dish.

“Summer,” Fraser said, his voice low and a little rough.