‘Good morning to you too.’ She flashed him her brightest smile as she sauntered into the kitchen. Probably not wise to antagonise the man who held the power for her to pay off Jason the Jerk, but Cruz’s inherent grouchiness brought out her inner imp and she couldn’t help but tease him.
He snorted and tossed diced capsicum and tomato into the frying pan alongside the sizzling onion. ‘What’s so good about it?’
‘The smell of what you’re cooking.’ She approached the stove and sniffed appreciatively. ‘The answer is yes, by the way.’
‘What?’ He tipped a bowl of beaten eggs into the pan.
‘I’m staying for breakfast, as I’m sure you were going to invite me.’
‘I wasn’t,’ he mumbled. ‘You’re too damn perky for this hour of the morning.’
‘It’s nine, practically afternoon for workaholics like me.’
‘You get up early to post snapshots online?’ He made it sound like she pole-danced for a living.
‘Are you dismissing my work?’
He must’ve heard the edge in her voice, because he turned off the stove and pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyes. ‘Sorry. If I thought being back here was hard last night, the situation hasn’t improved this morning.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘No.’ He grabbed two pieces of toast from the toaster and slathered them with butter before placing them on separate plates and topping with the scrambled egg concoction.
‘Anything I can do to help, besides the job you’re paying me to do?’
‘If you can solve root-rot problems, sort through countless applications for the upcoming season’s pickers, find new buyers for our produce and take the drudgery of financial meetings off my hands, then, sure, go ahead.’
He sounded so forlorn she wanted to hug him but didn’t think he’d appreciate the gesture.
‘I may not be able to do those things, but I have updated the farm’s Instagram and Facebook pages, and I’ll be redoing the website later today, once the graphic designer sends through her work.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve done that already?’
‘I’m good at what I do. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.’
He pushed a plate towards her. ‘I know my mother arranged for you to be here for the week, but feel free to wrap up earlier.’
Fear skittered through her. If Cruz reneged on this assignment, she was screwed.
‘Do you rush a soufflé?’
He frowned and stabbed at a piece of egg with his fork. ‘No.’
‘Then what makes you think you can rush my work?’ She folded her arms and stared him down. ‘I’m good at what I do. Ferne perused my portfolio and checked pricing with my competitors, so rest assured, I’m not ripping you off and I have no intention of doing a half-arsed job. So why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?’
He took an eternity to answer, lowering his eyes to his plate, where he toyed with his food, pushing it around with a fork. ‘It’s not personal.’
‘It sure as hell feels like it.’
‘I don’t like a stranger having a front-row seat to me struggling, okay?’ he snapped, thumping the island bench with his fist. ‘Being back here sucks.’
Elora had no idea what had happened to make Cruz hate the place so much, but his hint of vulnerability softened her resentment towards him for making her feel like a burden. If anybody understood the need to put on a brave face while struggling, she did.
Rather than push him for answers, she remained silent and forked scrambled egg into her mouth, the savoury taste sensation making her tastebuds dance. Damn, the man could cook. She sliced the toast topped with egg into small squares and continued eating until she’d cleaned her plate.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m struggling and why being back here sucks?’
‘Not my business to pry.’ She looked up from her plate. ‘As I said last night, you’re a brilliant cook.’
