“Precisely,” Josephine said, her expression serious. “They rely on this house to set the bar. You can’t just put out a couple of pumpkins and call it a day. It needs to be... spectacular.”
Topher looked as uneasy as I felt. This wasn’t going to be a small task.
“Well,” I said hesitantly, “I guess we’ll have to step up our game then.”
Josephine nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Because if the Hendersons win, they’ll never let me live it down.”
Topher chuckled. “Alright, we’ll make sure they don’t steal your crown. But you’re sure the neighborhood wouldn’t let you take a year off?”
“Not a chance.” Josephine looked exhausted all of a sudden. “I think I’m going to lie down for a few hours.”
Topher’s demeanor shifted instantly. He jumped to help her up from the chair. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He guided her gently toward the bedroom. His hands were steady, his touch gentle, as if every movement was made with her comfort in mind.
I lingered in the doorway, watching as he carefully settled his mom into bed.
“You’re too good to me, Topher,” she murmured as she patted his hand. She sighed, clearly exhausted but at peace, the lines on her face softening.
He smiled down at her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face in such a tender gesture that it caught me off guard.
She patted his hand. “I’ve missed you. It’s nice having you at home. Would you two make me dinner? Together?”
“I missed you, too,” he said softly. “Now rest. We’ll take care of dinner.”
As he stood up to leave, she flashed one last small smile. “You always take care of everything, don’t you?”
He chuckled lightly. “Not everything, but I’m learning.”
A little tug pulled at my chest. There was a tenderness in Topher I hadn’t expected—a side of him that showed how deeply he cared for his mom.
I never thought I could soften toward an annoyed, pampered, billionaire workaholic. But apparently miracles do happen.
9
It was official:the man who could manage a global empire couldn’t manage a frying pan.
Teaching a billionaire to cook was going to be harder than I thought.
When I told Topher it was time to make dinner, he closed his laptop without protest, which was already shocking. However, he stared at the stove like it was a ticking bomb. “Just a heads-up… I don’t cook. Ever. This could end in flames.”
I blinked. “Wait, you’ve never made a meal in your life?”
Topher shrugged. “Well, before I had a chef, I was a master at PB&J and could microwave mac ‘n’ cheese like a pro. That counts, right?”
“If you think peeling the plastic off a cup of noodles qualifies as gourmet cooking, then sure. But today’s your lucky day. You’re about to discover that making a home-cooked meal can be fun.”
Topher raised an eyebrow. “Fun? Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“But before we start, you might want to change. Cooking in a suit isn’t exactly a great idea.”
He nodded, disappearing into the hallway. When he returned, I nearly dropped the spatula. Gone was the crisp suit that he looked so good in, replaced by an old, faded t-shirt that stretched across his chest and arms, hugging his torso just right. For a second, I forgot to breathe.
“Better?” he asked, completely unaware of the effect he was having on me.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “M-much better.”
The house was so small it felt like there wasn’t an inch of space to breathe without being in each other’s way. It was clear that if we were going to survive this, we’d need to be on our best behavior at all times. No bickering, no snarky remarks. Which, given our constant state of verbal sparring, seemed nearly impossible. But with Josephine resting in her bedroom, the last thing we needed was her picking up on any tension between us.
As we got to work in the kitchen, I decided it was time to multitask. “Alright, while we cook, I’m going to teach you some yoga poses to help you relax.”
