I picked up her phone and pressed the screen, and although I couldn’t read any of the messages popping up due to facial recognition, I could see thatToby—a boyfriend, maybe—was sending messages to her every few seconds. About what, I didn’t care, but the little shit seemed desperate enough to bombard her. So rather than have the little asshole wake her up, I pocketed her phone and came into the kitchen.
Where I am right now, cooking.
Which is something else I hardly do.
Not because I can’t, but because I usually eat out with clients, or Jennifer does it all… did… shediddo it all.
When I do cook, however, I don’t do it for anyone other than myself. I could’ve been a complete asshole and let Robyn starve, or at least cook for herself, but if there was one thing my mother instilled in both Ellis and I as we were growing up, it was when you cook, you feed whoever is in your home. No matter who they are.
So here I am, standing over the large range cooker, preparing my late mother’s infamous beef and vegetable stew in the hopes that the two of us are able to sit together in a room and eat without this back-and-forth game we have apparently started playing.
I hear her before I see her.
The way her feet softly pad against the dark wood flooring of the house would naturally be missed by most, but not by someone like me. She pauses in the archway leading into the kitchen and as I glance over my shoulder, I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Jack, do you know where my phone is, I could’ve sworn—”
I point to the left of me where her phone is plugged into the wall, charging. “Do you eat meat?” I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. If she doesn’t, I’ll just have to cook her something else.
Cook her something else, really?
“I do,” she says bluntly.
“Good.” I turn back to face the large pot in front of me and continue stirring so as to keep it from sticking to the bottom. “I’ve prepared beef stew and rice for dinner.” I can already feel her eyes boring a hole into the back of my head,and I’m not sure if it’s the heat from the stove or her icy glare that’s making me hot.
“Uh, Jack, I—”
“Just sit at the table, Robyn,” I respond through gritted teeth, cutting off whatever she was going to say, because right now I don’t think I want to hear it. I don’t know why I’m pissed at her. And it’s not pissed in an angry way, it’s… something else entirely, and when I hear her mutter‘dick,’underneath her breath, I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
Let her think I’m a piece of shit. It’s better that way.
The more she hates me, the less she will want to be around me.
I’ve never been in her life, and through no fault of my own, either. Maybe if Jennifer hadn’t been such a terrible mother to her, my relationship with Robyn would’ve been much easier in a situation like this. But our connection is less than platonic.
Lifting the wooden spoon from the crock-pot, I tap it a few times against the side and place it onto the counter beside me. When I turn around, her face is pinched with a hint of sadness on her features, and I wonder if the cause of her upset has something to do with Toby. Scolding myself for bothering to care, I clear my throat to garner her attention. “Beer?” I ask.
“Huh?” She looks up from her phone, schooling her features almost instantly.
“Beer?” I repeat my question. “As in, do you want one?”
“Um…”
“It’s a simple enough question with a very easy-to-answer response. Yes, or no?”
She scoffs, resting her elbows on the black and gold marble countertop of the kitchen island, leaning forward just enough for me to see down the cleavage of her soft cable-knit sweater.
Don’t do it,I tell myself. But I fail miserably and look directly at her tits.
“Are you on your period or something?” she queries.
Here we go again.
I mimic her post and lean over the countertop, carding my fingers together. “No, however Iamin a period of time where I have to deal with someone as irritating as you.”
Robyn leans further forward, giving me an even better view of her pert breasts that look as though they’re about to pour out of the bra she’s wearing. “Guess we’re both suffering then, and in answer to your question, Grumpy… a beer would be great, please and thank you.”
I nod in her direction, refusing to bite back at the nickname she’s called me twice now, and straighten to my full height, because if there’s one thing I’m noticing about this girl, it’s that she seems to have an answer or comeback for everything. A mouth so big it needs to be stuffed with something larger to have a chance of shutting her up.
