She flinched at my tone and instantly looked down which I didn’t like. It made me feel as if I’d kicked a puppy. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I wanted to apologize for offending you yesterday.” She cleared her throat when I didn’t say anything. “I made lunch. I’m not very good and I’m just learning, but I like it. Cooking is fun.”
I snorted and she flinched again, making me swallow a sigh. “I hate cooking.”
“I’m not very good at it, so I can’t promise it’s high-quality, but I liked this recipe,” she said quietly.
“It’s better than my sandwich,” I mumbled but then remembered my worry. “Are you like some social media person who does shit for attention or—”
“No,” she said firmly but still stared down. “People who put their whole lives out there are—I could never be a person like that. I’m not made to be in the spotlight or to stand in front of people.” She cleared her throat after a few moments and then stood. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“I’ll eat,” I said quickly, mentally kicking myself, but seriously, it was like kicking a damn puppy and the sadness I sensed from her killed me.
“Why are you so upset that I’m trying to apologize?” she whispered, not moving to sit back down.
I sighed. “People aren’t nice without a purpose, Aurora.”
She met my gaze then. “Yes, and that’s a shame. I don’t want to live my life that way. Is that so wrong?”
Gods above and below, I wanted to believe her… But I didn’t.
I just couldn’t kick the puppy again.
So I sat.
She did too and started pulling things out of her damn picnic basket. “Um, I should have paid closer attention to the recipe. It said provolone and I got sharp provolone. It’s a bit overpowering.”
“I like sharp provolone.”
“I hoped you’d like an Italian pasta salad,” she said quietly. “You sound like Italians I’ve seen in American movies.” She didn’t push when I gave a noncommittal grunt. “I also used protein pasta. Amazing the options and things they have now. Pasta with protein. It’s good though. I couldn’t taste a difference.”
I accepted the deli-style plastic container she handed me along with the plastic fork. Then I picked between the two options of sparkling water she offered, assuring her that orange was my favorite.
“Okay, good. I thought you could tell I wanted the strawberry and just saved my feelings,” she mumbled and settled herself with her own food. “The recipe was supposed to have pepperoni, but that’s not my favorite, so I’m sorry if you like it.”
“I’m not picky,” I said when I realized she was talking because she was nervous. I took a bite and blinked as I chewed. “Shit, this is fucking delicious. This is legit shit that would be like twenty bucks at a bodega in New York.”
“I purchased high-quality salami and ham since I was going to put in more of it than the recipe called for,” she told me. “And I grated the parmesan fresh.” She took a bite and smiled. “I like it. Maybe not so much of the provolone though.”
I took another bite and savored it. “I like sharp provolone, but I get what you’re saying. If you think it’s overpowering, I’d say do half sharp provolone and like half torn fresh mozz. That would be damn good too.”
“Oh, I like that. Thank you, Creed.”
Shit, I liked the way she said my name. I cleared my throat and gave a firm nod as I took another bite before trying the sparkling water. It was like eating candy and somehow didn’t have many calories. Weird but good.
“Um, the brownies—I need to work on my baking,” she warned me when we were done with our containers.
“Still better than I would do,” I told her when she still hesitated. I accepted one when she gave it over and instantly knew why she was worried. I shrugged after taking a bite. “Recipe’s good. You just cooked them a bit long. So what? Not a fucking hockey puck or anything.”
She chuckled quietly. “No, not anything that bad.”
“Ease up then. You’re still learning. The world won’t end if the brownies aren’t perfectly soft. I’m grateful, and honestly anything would have been second best to that pasta salad.”
“I have more that you can take home if you want,” she offered with a beaming smile that affected me way too much.
“I’m good. You need to eat too,” I mumbled, focusing on my drink.
“I actually made the whole recipe not realizing it was meant to be for a party. It will go bad before I can eat it all,” she admitted. “I have to pay better attention and halve recipes. It was stupid of me.”
I really was an idiot. “Yeah, okay, if it’s—wasting food is bad.” I accepted the three containers and the extra paper bag she’d brought so I could easily carry them. I almost joked what else she had in that picnic basket but didn’t want her to hang her head again.
