Page 18 of Whispered Promises

Noah gestures to the big man on the stool. “And Nate.”

“We’ve met,” he grunts.

Wait, what?

Glancing down at her, my brows furrow. I spent all day with Rosy, and she never mentioned it. Neither has Nate. A small pang hits my chest. Did she purposely avoid telling me?

“We met at the gym this week. Nice to see you again,” she says.

I guess it makes sense that she didn’t bring it up if they don’t really know each other. Relief has some of the tension easing. But Nate’s frown at her words has me questioning why he didn’t mention meeting her when I bought her up yesterday.

“Well, I hope you’re hungry. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I’ve made a few different options, and you can just pick whatever you like,” Bry announces, grabbing some dishes and walking over to the table to lay them out. “Anything you don’t eat will just be eaten by one of these animals.”

“Rosy loves animals, so that’s not an insult to me.” I grin, guiding her over to the table and seating her in the middle, then sliding into the chair beside her.

Nate grabs the empty place on her other side and picks up her plate. “What do you want?”

He’s always so grumpy. If he’s not careful, he’s going to scare her off.

But I don’t get the chance to jump in and smooth things over.

“Oh, um. Anything vegetarian please? You don’t have to dish it up for me, though. If you just let me know if there are any options, then I can grab it.” She reaches out to take her plate back.

“I want to.”

Moving it out of Rosy’s reach, Nate directs his attention to Bry. “Which ones?”

She’s going to think we’re a bunch of grunting apes.

Smiling broadly, Bry answers, “You can try a bit of everything; I made all the dishes suitable for you. You’re a guest, and I didn’t want you to feel as though you were missing out.”

A shy, tentative smile spreads across her cheeks, and Bry blinks owlishly at her.

Same, bro. Same.

It’s weird how a cute smile from her can make you feel like you’ve hung the moon for her or some shit. Instead, all he had to do was cook.

“Thank you. I’d love to try a bit of everything. You’ve made so much effort.”

Nate doesn’t verbally answer. Instead he adds a bit of each of the dishes, then slides the full plate in front of her.

As soon as Rosy has her food, we all dive in and load up our own plates.

Fucking finally, too.

Shovelling a forkful of some sticky, spicy cauliflower into my mouth, I groan loudly in appreciation as I chew.

“Fuck me, Bry. This is good,” I mumble.

But his attention isn’t on me or on his own meal; it’s on Rosy.

With her head tucked down, she scoops up a forkful and pops it into her mouth, chewing delicately. Then she loads up her fork with something else and slides that into her mouth to taste. She’s unknowingly teasing Bry with the suspense, and even though I love it, I can’t help but take pity on him.

I nudge her with my shoulder. “So, beautiful, what do you think?”

She startles and raises her head, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh! Sorry, I was enjoying it so much. It’s all amazing, honestly. I wish I could cook like this,” she says quickly, a pink tinge covering her cheeks.

“What do you usually like to cook?” Bry asks, his own plate of food still forgotten.