Eamon checked his watch. “I need a few minutes to walk around the house some more. Install sensors on the windows and doors and set up cameras. Maybe you could make us something to eat in the meantime? I’m not picky, but I don’t like avocados or coconut.”
Before I could even respond, he was walking away, down the stairs, then out the front door to his car.
Okay then. Clearly, I had been dismissed…and put to work. The first didn’t bother me so much, but the second was a different story. Who did he think he was, coming into my house and telling me what to do?
The guy who was protecting me, that’s who and what he was. My anger deflated. Was it really so unreasonable of him to ask me to make him some food? Even if he had made it more of an order than a question?
It wasn’t, and rather than complain about his tone and attitude, I should make us both some food. Because I wasdamn close to full-on hangry myself, if not already over that line.
And so I retreated to my happy place and whipped up a home-cooked meal for the man who might be getting under my skin far too easily, but who was also putting his own life on hold to protect me. Surely that was worth a little time and effort on my end, right?
SIX
EAMON
I wiped my mouth with a napkin, then leaned back in my chair, patting my now full belly. Bloody hell, that had been a tasty meal. I had to resist the urge to let out a happy belch. Back in my time, that would’ve been considered proof of a meal well-enjoyed, but things had changed considerably. And not always for the better, now had they?
“I don’t know why you’re a baker when you can cook like this,” I told Charles.
His whole face lit up, like someone had ignited a bright candle in a dark room. “Thank you. I like cooking. It calms me. But I like baking even more.”
“If your cakes and whatnots are as good as this meal, you should be cooking for kings and presidents.”
He chuckled. “From your lips to god’s ears.” Charles rose, gathering the dishes. “Can I get you some dessert?”
“Dessert?” I sat up straight again. “You have dessert? What kind?”
“Cherry cobbler. I made it yesterday.”
“For who?” When he looked puzzled, I added, “Didyou have friends or family over? I assume you didn’t make it just for you.”
He raised his chin with a stubborn tilt that made him look both vulnerable and fierce at the same time, like he was daring me to criticize his choices. “I did, actually. Because I wanted cherry cobbler and being single is no reason not to make it for myself. I deserve it as much as my friends would, don’t I?”
The challenge in his voice was clear, but he wouldn’t get an argument from me. “I admire the hell out of you for that. That’s amazing.”
He blew out a breath. “It’s not always that easy. Cooking for myself or making dessert is one thing, but I don’t always feel brave enough to go out for dinner alone or go to the movies. It’s easier to watch Netflix and order in.”
My heart grew soft. Charles was lonely, in a way. “You’ll find someone.”
His face shut down as he stacked the plates and turned his back on me, bringing them to the kitchen. “I don’t need pity. Or platitudes.”
Crap. I had inadvertently hurt him, and the knowledge sat heavy and sour in my chest. The brightness that had lit up his face moments before was completely gone, replaced by that careful blankness people used when they were protecting themselves. Christ, I was an eejit. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel worse about his situation. “I told you I admire you. What about that is pity?”
He kept his back toward me as he answered. “Maybe, but that next line was the biggest platitude ever.”
“I meant it.”
He slowly turned around. “In what way?”
“That I don’t understand how and why you’re notmarried yet. The men here must be blind or fecking stupid, I suppose.”
He blinked once, twice, his expression shifting from guarded to something more vulnerable, like he was afraid to accept the compliment but wanted to anyway. “That was…nice of you. Thank you.”
I got up and walked over to him. “You’re a catch, sweetheart. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
I cupped his face gently and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, just beside the corner of his mouth. His skin was impossibly soft, dusted with the faintest hint of freckles, and I felt him go still beneath my touch. The innocent contact shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did, not after that hot kiss we’d shared earlier, but warmth spread through my chest like honey.
I forced myself to step back, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Thanks again for dinner. Let me do a quick perimeter check, and then I would love some cherry cobbler.”
