For some reason, though, I trust Freya. There’s something about her. I don’t know if it’s her nerves, or the way she clearly overthinks everything in her quest to make everything perfect, or the fact that she hasn’t once fangirled over me, but spending time with her is like hanging out with Casey or Parker. To them, we might be hockey players, but we’re nothing special. We’re just like everyone else walking the planet.
“You really don’t need to help with this,” she says as I hand her the saucepan she used to cook the vegetables in not so long ago.
“It’s the least I can do,” I explain as she places the rinsed pan into the dishwasher. “Make the most of it while you can; there will be plenty of times where I go straight to bed after eating.”
“Well, in that case, I’m honored to have your assistance. I just don’t want you to think I require you to help tidy up my mess. I was quite neat with the dish I made tonight, but I don’t want you to think that’s how it’ll always be.”
“You can make as much mess as you’d like. I’ll be sure to warn my housekeeper.”
“You have a housekeeper?” she blurts.
“Uh…yeah. She pops in a couple times a week to make sure I don’t turn into a slob. I barely ever see her.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll look forward to meeting her. But if there’s anything you ever need me to do outside of the kitchen, all you need to do is ask.”
The words hang between us as she arranges the cutlery on the tray. For a few seconds, I don’t think she’s realized what she just said, but then, the words seem to hit her and she stands bolt upright.
“No, that’s not…I didn’t mean?—”
“I know what you meant, Freya,” I assure her.
There is something so endearing about her blurting out whatever is in her head. I hope that as she becomes more comfortable being in my company, it doesn’t go away.
“I’m so sorry. Words…they just fall from my lips when I’m nervous.”
“You have no reason to be nervous, Chef.”
She smiles, her eyes brightening.
“I could get used to that.”
“Just don’t let it go to your head. I don’t want you leaving me to go work in some fancy restaurant.”
“I’ll do my best,” she says, her smile still wide.
Damn, she’s pretty when she smiles. It reaches her eyes and makes them twinkle, as if she’s letting me in on a secret.
“I should probably get going,” she says once she’s wiped down the countertops for the third time, the dishwasher now whirring between us. “I’ve got an early start in the morning.”
“Do you have everything you’re going to need? I can order?—”
“You don’t need to worry about that now,” she assures me. “If I need anything, I can stop and pick it up. I’ll just give you the receipts and we can level up at the end of the month, maybe?” she offers.
I shake my head, annoyed that I hadn’t thought about this sooner. I’ve always had groceries delivered; I just kind of assumed that she’d do the same thing. But if she wants to go tothe store, or pick up anything she’s missed, then there is no way in hell she’s using her own money.
“I’ll get you a credit card,” I state. “Anything you need, you’ll put on that. In the meantime”—I march out of the room and locate my wallet in my duffel bag, which I abandoned by the front door when I first got in. I pull out a few bills and then thrust them at her—“this should cover us.”
Freya stares at the cash with her hands locked at her sides.
“I’m not taking your money, Cole. It’ll just be a few things. It’s fine.”
“No,” I grunt. “It’s not fine. You’re buying things for me, so I’ll pay.”
“The salary is already?—”
“Freya,” I warn, my voice deeper than it was a few moments ago. “If you keep bringing it up, I’ll double it again.”
She slams her lips shut.
