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I got out of the car. “Are you sure you can manage that?”
“From anyone else that would be patronising, but from you, it sounds like a genuine question.”
“It is a genuine question.” I retrieved my bag from the footwell and closed the car door behind me. “Use the glass bowl and put it in the microwave for twenty minutes. Don’t forget the water.”
“Now I can manage it.” He grinned, opening the door to the house. “Go on, I’ll handle it.”
“All right, thank you.” I kicked off my shoes and put them on the shoe rack, then headed straight up the stairs and into my room.
Talk.
We had to talk.
I’d almost forgotten about that with the chaos of the day. Since everyone else had arrived at the office our dynamic had been as normal, and it’d slipped my mind that the hand that had shaken so many today had been wrapped around his penis before my eyes just twenty-four or so hours ago.
Shit.
Now all I could think about was a naked Theodore in the shower.
This was going to be the worst conversation I’d ever have in my life; I was certain of it. I was going to have to pull on my professional persona to get through it and brush it off as a genuine mistake that wouldn’t happen again.
I changed out of my work clothes, tossed them in the laundry basket, and pulled on an oversized jumper dress with a hood. My tights were exchanged for thick slipper socks, and I tied my hair up into a loose bun before removing my makeup. I grabbed my phone out of my bag before I made my way downstairs to where the rich smell of chilli assaulted my senses.
“That smells so good,” I said, stepping into the kitchen.
Theodore had also changed during the time I’d been in my room, but he was missing one important component of his outfit.
“Please put on a t-shirt.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “I’ll put one on before we eat.”
Him not wearing a t-shirt wasn’t really the problem.
The problem was that the smooth, muscular shirtless top half of him was directly complimenting the grey sweatpants covered bottom half of him.
I cleared my throat. “I’d really rather you put one on now.”
“Why? What are you envisioning over there, Chloe?”
Mhmm.
What was I envisioning about, indeed? Surely not tracing his stomach muscles with my tongue.
Nope.
Not at all.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied, walking to the fridge and pulling out the open bottle of wine. “Would you like a glass?”
“Do you think you could handle the sight of me shirtless, in these sweatpants, drinking wine while cooking for you?”
Putting a bowl of rice and water in the microwave couldn’t really be called cooking, but I wasn’t going to point that out.
He was so proud of himself, bless him.
“There’s no need to test the limits of my patience where you’re concerned,” I said, pouring two glasses. “I already know it’s pretty much infinite after working for you this long.”
“Maybe I was wrong about you knowing if I was flirting with you or not.”
