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“Just in time for group to get out,” Rahvyn said as she turned the water off and flicked her hands before reaching for a dishtowel. “Thank you for the help.”
“Anytime.” Nalla hung the damp one she’d been using on the oven’s pull rod. “And we have taste-tested ’em properly. You know, for manufacturing defects.”
“Exactly.”
As Rahvyn turned around and leaned back against the sink rim, she took her time with the drying off.
“I think you have something you want to ask me,” the female murmured.
Annnnd cue the putting away,Nalla thought as she grabbed the mixing bowl and walked across to the lower cupboard it belonged in.
“Not at all.” She went back and sifted through the mixing utensils she’d dried. “It’s time for me to get back to work, you know. Two nights off in a row is a weekend.”
What the hell was she saying?
“And maybe we should have waited on the washing thing.” She went to the glass jars next to the stove and returned the whisks and spatulas to their places. “Until after the dishwasher was finished running from First Meal, you know? I think it saves water versus hand doing it.”
She made busywork reordering all the utensils and then she pulled the flat drawer underneath out just to double-check the sharps were good to go. Man, she wished she had a house with this setup. The kitchen had been done over just a couple of years ago, the new solar-powered appliances paired up with hand-paneled cherry cabinets and beautiful red-and-brown granite counters and gray slate floors that had red area rugs on them. The long table that ran down the meadow-view side of things was already set for Last Meal, and for a split second, the twenty places reminded her of the mansion.
No sterling, porcelain, or damask napkins, but stainless steel, pottery, and gingham squares. But many seats, for a community of people.
She rubbed the ache in the center of her chest, and knew she had to go face the music at home. Even though the last thing she wanted to do was get into a fight about…
“What about him?”
Nalla shook herself to attention and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sorry? What?”
Rahvyn was still at the sink, her silver hair down over the bright-red sweater she was wearing, the combo candy-cane bright, yet her beauty such that it wasn’t overpowered.
“Nate.”
Shit. She must have spoken his name out loud. “Ah, nothing.”
There was a long pause, and Nalla filled it fiddling with the knivessome more. Which even to her was an admission of guilt, not that she’d been accused of anything—
“It is not any of my business, but I know he was upstairs with you.”
As Nalla’s head snapped back around, Rahvyn put her hand up. “It is fine. You are a guest here, and he is not a resident, so there is no conflict of interest. And before you ask, no, that was not why I went up there. I really did want you to make cookies with me. I was worried about you last night.”
Nalla shut the drawer and eased back against it, mirroring the other female’s pose. “I’m surprised you’re here again this evening.” She winced. “That sounds bad. I didn’t mean—”
“Like I said, my life has changed.” The female ran a hand through her silver hair. “Time is precious, so I like to use it where I can make a difference.”
As their eyes met, Nalla knew she really had to go. But then she thought of what had been interrupted on the second floor. “Nate is just… a friend of mine.”
“I am glad to hear that. He needs a friend right now. More than ever.”
Nalla frowned. “Why’s that?”
“He has got a lot on his mind.” Rahvyn shrugged with what seemed like sad resignation. “But it is really not my place to say, you know?”
“Oh, I’m not prying.”Bullshit. Bulllllshittttttt. “Really, I’m not.”
“I hope you give him a chance. He needs… a friend.”
“I wish I knew why.”
Nah, she wasn’t prying. She was just dying to know anything about his past and what kind of pain he’d treated with those tattoos… hell, how about the sweatshirt? For fuck’s sake, she’d take a DL on the XXL.
