Afterward, I stand in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my too-broad hips. The roundness I can pinch at my waist. And my thighs. Too full, too round.
“You’re not his type. Simple as that.”
The words fall—heavy, hollow.
I dress quietly, then pad down the creaking stairs.He saw me. He knows. But he’s also my employee, and I can’t put this off any longer.
Delectable flavors greet my nostrils. Fresh-baked cornbread and something spicy and savory.
I stand in the kitchen, hands on my hips, and mouth hanging open. “What are you doing?”
Kael moves around the small space, too large for everything. He wears a red half-apron, looking like the outlaw chef from a salsa commercial.
“Cooking,” he grunts.
“I see that.” My eyes dart from a boiling pot of something red, thick, and meaty to the countertop where a glass casserole dish of cornbread cools.
“Figured you could use a break.”
“But it’s part of the deal.”
“What deal?” he asks.
“That I provide room and board. That comes with food.”
He shrugs, turquoise eyes dark, pupils blown. “Figured you got overheated this afternoon. Needed a break from the oven.”
A whimper escapes me before I can stop it. My cheeks turn red.
He scowls, hand coming up to rub the tattoos beneath his shirt. “Torture,” he whispers to himself.
“You okay?”
He nods once. Topic of conversation closed.
“Can I help?”
“No,” he growls. “Better for you to stay back. Maybe in the living room. Or upstairs.”
Same treatment I’ve gotten all week from him. Like he can’t stand to be in the same room with me.
“Shower and all, and I still stink?”
“Lavender and honey. You hardly stink.”
My eyes catch his, but then he looks down, concentrating too hard on the molten mixture bubbling in the pot. Chili, by the looks of it.
It hits like a bolt of lightning. This means something to him. Cooking this meal for us.
Instead of pushing anymore, making myself useful, I head for the fridge. “Beer?”
“Yes, please,” he says, thick-throated.
I grab two Rough & Red Country Reds, popping their caps, and placing one sweating bottle in front of him. He nods in that self-assured way that makes my insides melt.
I round the island, holding myself back. Watching him cook, his jaw tight, concentrating a little too hard.
“How’d you learn to cook?”
