Robert stared at me for a few heartbeats before finally releasing a breath. “Sure. What do you have?” He began removing his suit jacket.
“Campbell’s tomato soup and grilled cheese.”
I tilted my head when his forehead creased, looking disappointed. “What?”
“Campbell’s soup? That’s crap.”
A laugh burst from my lips. “We weren’t all raised with a silver spoon, Townsend.”
He frowned.
“I’ll pretty it up a little for you, and it pairs well with my grilled cheese. I’ll even let you choose which cheese we’ll have on our sandwiches.” I glanced back over my shoulder before padding over my wooden floors toward my tiny kitchen.
My apartment wasn’t too big, only about five hundred square feet. But I’d sacrificed size to be closer to my work. From my apartment to my job it only took about twenty minutes to walk—obviously, it was much shorter if I chose to drive, which I did only during inclement weather.
“You have more than one cheese option?” he asked from behind me, his warm breath moving over the back of my neck.
“Yes,” I responded airily. Pulling the door of my ugly green refrigerator open, I bent over to seek out the cheese options I had. “There’s a little grocer about halfway between my place and work. I stop there a couple of times a month. They have the best specialty foods, cheese being one of them.” I placed the cheeses on the countertop. “I have goat cheese, havarti, gouda—”
“Gouda? For grilled cheese?”
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. But, in my opinion, you really can’t go wrong with sharp cheddar.” I held up the fresh round of cheddar I’d gotten on my way home from work just that evening.
“Cheddar.”
I grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” I loved the other options but had had my heart set on the cheddar.
“You need some help?”
I pivoted, looking back at him and pausing from slicing the cheddar cheese on my cutting board. “You cook?”
He shook his head. “No. Just thought I should ask to be polite.”
I giggled. “Thanks for offering.” I placed the remaining cheeses in the refrigerator and pulled out the European butter I’d also gotten from the grocer that evening.
“How’s everything at work?” I asked, making conversation as my hands busily assembled our sandwiches and I began heating the cast iron skillet to melt the butter.
“There’s another leak,” he answered grimly.
I glanced back over my shoulder to see the hard expression that covered his face. Robert had told me about some of the leaks that had been plaguing Townsend Industries for some time now.
“You still have no idea who it is?”
“I have some names in mind. I’m going to have a guy I know look into it.”
“A guy you know? That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” I teased.
Robert just shrugged. “It is what it is.”
He moved closer to me as I began adding the Italian spices to the warming tomato soup.
“You buy high end cheeses and butter from a European grocer, high quality bread from its bakery, all to make your grill cheese and pair it with what? A ten cent can of soup?”
Smirking at his observation, I plated our sandwiches, cutting them on a diagonal, and poured the soup into two bowls before handing him his plate. I followed him to my dining space which was just off the kitchen, right next to the window that gave us a view of some of Williamsport downtown area.
“I guess my food is a reflection of my life.”
Robert paused in chewing, giving me a curious stare.
