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I stare at his back in annoyance and disbelief. He thinks the conversation is done, now? Just like that? “Why would I want to compromise your dreams for Taste?” I ask.

“You distracting my head chef would compromise my vision for the restaurant. You thinking about anything but putting the best dishes possible out for our customers would compromise my vision. You thinking our history has any bearing at all on your job status would–”

“I get it,” I snap. “None of that is going to happen. I’m going to work my ass off, and I could care less who put their name on the check to get the place built. Okay? So just leave me alone. Can we at least agree on that?”

Nolan picks up a piece of carrot from the pile on the cutting board and pops it in his mouth, chewing as he stares down at me. “Leave you alone? No. You’re on my payroll.” He shrugs, as if that is all the explanation he needs.

“We both know that’s not what you’re talking about.”

“What are we talking about, then?” He asks.

I glare, unwilling to put it into words. Maybe Nolan thinks him coming back is some kind of opportunity to win back his pride by making me want to sleep with him. Maybe that’s all this is to him—a shot at redeeming his bruised ego.

And sure, maybe some small part of me wonders if I made a mistake by breaking things off. Or, at the very least, maybe I could’ve done things differently. I could’ve explained my thoughts more. But I worried he’d talk me out of it. I worried my resolve to keep chasing my dream was so fragile that it would only take him asking me once and I’d set it all aside for him.

He still has that power over me, even if I hate to admit it. My only defense is to keep pushing him away. To keep pretending.

“So,” I say, sounding far more casual than I feel. “Are you going to eat with us, or not?”

He pauses just long enough to let me know he’s considering resuming the argument. But he shrugs easily. “Sure. Let me know when it’s ready. I’m going to take a shower.” He turns his back and pulls off his shirt, tossing it on the couch with his rumpled up blanket he didn’t bother to fold this morning. I try not to stare but fail as my eyes wander the rippling muscle of his broad back.

He pulls the door shut behind him and I finally let out a long breath. “Dammit,” I mutter to myself. Do hot guys sign some sort of contract that says they must always take off their shirts before they reach bathrooms?

I lose myself in cooking for fifteen minutes or so while the shower runs and I mostly fail at not picturing Nolan in there with warm water running down his body. Caroline and Andi knock, so I go to the door and let them in while the chicken sizzles in the pan.

“Smells amazing,” Andi says, tilting her chin up and sniffing in deeply.

“It really does,” Caroline says. “What is that?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I say, closing the door behind them. “No Jesse, today?” I ask Andi.

“Oh. I didn’t know he was invited. I told him he’d have to get takeout with the guys. They tried to make this homemade pasta and it was an absolute disaster. Jesse tried to say the sauce had ‘character’.”

Caroline snorts. “Character? If that sauce was a character, it was one that should’ve been aggressively cut from the script on day one. My nostrils still feel like they’re burning.”

Andi pauses. “Is that the shower?” She lowers her voice, bulging her eyes at me. “Is Nolan here?”

I stiffen, but try my best to look casual. “He’s going to join us for dinner.”

Caroline’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.”

Nolan sits at the head of the table with his hair wet and leaving a slight dark patch on the shoulders of his gray sweatshirt. He’s wearing short black shorts that show off his long, muscular legs that are dusted with blonde hairs.

“So,” Andi says after we’ve all taken a few bites. She looks up at him over her plate. “Kinda crazy how this worked out, huh? Are you two catching up on old times yet? Telling old war stories?”

Nolan looks at me. I feel like shrinking in my chair, but I stare right back at him.

“We haven’t talked about the past, much,” Nolan says.

“Yeah,” I say, hacking at my chicken with a knife and fork a little too aggressively. “Nolan is too busy trying to assert his dominance like some kind of chimp in a cage here. At least he hasn’t started throwing his poop at me, yet.”

Caroline inhales her water, coughing and covering her mouth. Nolan is watching me with cold amusement in his eyes now.

“A chimp in a cage?” he asks. “I don’t see any locks, Calloway. Is it really a cage if you’re free to leave?”

Andi is suddenly very interested in her food. “This is so good,” she whispers.

“Free to leave?” I ask. “And go where, exactly? Wasn’t that your question last night when you refused to let me leave unless I could prove I had somewhere to go?”

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