I drop the noodles into the cold water before turning to face him. I didn’t even think about it, but he doesn’t have to know that.
“That’s how I make it.” I turn back to the stove.
Be cool, be cool.
My muscles tense as he walks up behind me, his nearness sending shivers over my skin. I’m a statue as he watches me attempt to stir the stiff noodles in the cold water. They won’t fit in the pot, so I’m trying to use the spoon to squish them down.
“Where did you learn to cook, Miss Dawson?”
Again with the Miss Dawson . . .
“I, uh...” I don’t want to lie, so I don’t. “My dad taught me everything he knows.” Which starts with a slice of bread and ends with slightly burned toast.
I still don’t turn around, and Mr. Bradshaw continues to watch over my shoulder. My skin heats, but I can’t determine if it’s from the stove or the invasion of my personal bubble.
“Did your mom like to cook as well?”
“She died when I was three.”Enough with word-vomiting personal information.
A few moments pass before he speaks again. This time, I can feel his breath on my neck. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. My grandmother also passed when I was young. We were close.”
I slowly pivot to face him, my head tilting back to meet his eyes. “How old were you?” My voice is low.
He licks his lips. “Seven.”
My eyes follow the action, and the tenderness of his confession does strange things to my brain.
“Why were you so close to her?”
He looks away for a moment before his face turns back to mine. “My mother was...emotionally unavailable. My father was never around, always off, running his business and enjoying various female company wherever he was. She didn’t exactly cope well with being stuck at home with the children.”
“Hmm,” is all I can manage.
I still think he’s a scumbag, but his upbringing being worse than I would have guessed does help me feel a bit less hatred toward him.
At least I had one parent around who loved me with all his heart.
CHAPTER 10
LUKE
The oven beeps,breaking the trance we were in. My body physically jolts, and I blink as I take a step back from her.
She flips around to open the door, and immediately, dark smoke pours out. She starts to cough as she pulls out the pan of lumpy, blackened food.
A second later, the smoke alarm starts to pierce our eardrums with its beeping. I have to stand on a barstool to switch it off, thanks to the ten-foot ceiling. When I get down and turn around to face her, she’s frowning at the lumps.
“I don’t understand. I followed the directions.”
She’s unbelievable.
All the details are perfect, even down to the worn, fitted jeans hugging her hips. Her blonde hair is up to reveal the arch of her neck, and even though Iknowshe has been designed to make me trust her, I still find myself wanting to give in.
Could I be wrong?
I take a step closer and look down at the pan. Even without the charred parts, it doesn’t look at all like the pesto salmon and shrimp that Eloise makes. The chunks of pine nuts on the top are mixed in with slimy-looking green mush.
“I guess I’m a little out of practice.”
