My brows rose, watching as Nash reached for the potatoes, scooping three huge loads onto his plate beside, and on top of, his steak.
Mr. Beans jumped into Bee’s lap when she sat, eyeballs enormous and locked on the steak once more. I glared at him, but Mr. Beans didn’t cower at my authority anymore. He started licking Bee’s steak, and to my surprise, shedidn’t seem to care.
“Oh, is that yummy?” she cooed at him, petting his head.
I’d completely lost him to the charming powers of Betty.
Nash pointed at my steak with his forkful of potatoes. “I hope you like medium-rare steaks. That’s just how Bee cooks them,” he said, loading the fork into his mouth. He looked so childlike in that moment, and it was cute.
I shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”
He smiled, looking charmed by my naivety. “When you cut it open, it’ll be a little pink, and…um,in the middle,” he added, but then coughed, shoveling more potatoes in his mouth like a starved raccoon.
I bit at my sleeve, answering nervously. “Oh, right. Yeah.Totally.I’ve seen that in my cookbooks before—pink.”
The table fell silent, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Too close for comfort, we needed a new subject.
“Um,yeah,” Bee said, cutting into her steak with more focus than I felt necessary. “Yep, pink middle. Medium rare. It’s good,” she rushed out, showing it to me.
“Yes!Yes,just like that. Pink in the middle,” I agreed. This was painful.
“Yep.” She had her eyes on her plate as she brought the piece to her mouth, avoiding Mr. Bean’s fast attempt to intercept it with his paw.
I picked up my steak knife and fork, cutting my piece.
Nash shifted in his chair. “So,uh.There’s a big auction on Friday at Beaumont. Bee and I will be out late working it.”
Hallelujah,a new subject. I tried to look super engaged. Eager to move past the pink meat topic.
Nash was looking at his plate when he spoke. “I thought ifyou wanted to, Bee could bring you along. We could set you up somewhere offstage, quiet and safe. Bee will stay with you the whole time—you can even bring Bill.” He looked at me then.
I held the piece of steak balanced on my fork, thinking. This was why being around people was good for me. They provided challenges. My immediate reaction was a hard no, of course, but the thought of being away from Nash all day sounded awful. I let myself consider it. I’d never done anything so public before.
My stomach twisted and flipped. “I don’t want to be a burden, or cause you any extra work.” I took a bite of the steak. It was salty and rich, utterly amazing. I was annoyed with myself for not figuring out how to make it sooner. I could have just used a thermometer.
Bee shook her head. “Not at all! We can make it really easy for you, and this way I’m not bored backstage like I always am. It’s my job to oversee the flow of the auction items on and off stage and ensure they come and go seamlessly. I know the perfect dark corner for us to set up in. It’s right near the bathrooms, too.”
She was convincing me with that.
Nash chimed in, “It’s not overwhelmingly noisy either. Our auctions are quiet except for the auctioneer. People take it pretty seriously. There will be some sizable jewelry pieces you might find neat, and some Bauhaus furniture…”
God, for the first time ever, I could feel myself wanting to say yes. “Well,” I began, feeling brave. “Maybe I could?” I gave a slight, shaky smile.
“Yes?” He sounded so hopeful, I knew then I’d do anything to make him happy.
I nodded with determination. “Yes. I’ll go.”
“I hoped you might say that,” he said, his gaze dropping to his mountain of potatoes and picking up a forkful. “It’s also the first time they’re auctioning a PERL.”
I choked, covering my mouth as the steaklodged itself in my throat.
CHAPTER 29
Nash
Bee glared at me, her eyes filled with murderous intent. She looked about ready to carve me up with her steak knife.
I’d messed up, and I realized it instantly. It was foolish and reckless of me to assume Sybil was aware of the auction. I’d spent the better part of the day figuring out the probabilities. I thought she was feigning ignorance. I shouldn’t have listened to Bee’s insistence that Sybilhadto know, being, you know, PERL and all.
