“You’d get sick if you ate it every day,” Nellie says, though there’s a fresh gleam in her pretty blue eyes.
“Nah, this is healthy shit. That only applies to sugary foods.” Sutton nudges her shoulder with his.
“You really like it?” She puts another forkful in her mouth.
“Definitely a 10 out of 10. I’m adding you to the dinner rotation.”
Nellie squints. “That sounds too much like a chore. I don’t think I want to do that.”
“That’s because it is.”
“Miss Alice,” she whines. “You didn’t tell me that I’d have to start doing a chore!”
My smile is tight. “What’s your favorite food?”
“I don’t know. Spaghetti?”
“How about we learn spaghetti next. Would you like that?”
She rises and picks up her plate. Pieces of rice fall down the front of her apron. “Only if you teach me to make garlic bread too. For real. Not the frozen kind.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
The slamming screen door announces her departure.
“I guess I’m on cleanup. My chef left.” Pushing my palms against the tabletop, I stand and collect my dirty dish.
“That can’t happen again.” Sutton rises too, forcing me to tip my chin back to meet his eyes. Once again, I curse myself for being five-foot-two. Or maybe I should curse him for being six-foot-one and giving me a crick in the neck.
“It wasn’t intentional, but I’m sure it won’t happen again.” I need to gather the rest of the dirty dishes. I make a move to pass, but Sutton stops me by wrapping his fingers around the edge of my plate. His gentle tug keeps me rooted.
“I mean it. I don’t know who was on that phone call. You might not care if she talks to your old landlord or your ex-boyfriend, but I sure as fuck do.”
“Whoa, hey. Take a step back, Sutton.” My tone is sharp. “You aren’t going to talk to me like that.”
“I want to make sure I’m clear.”
I jerk the plate back out of his hands. “You are.Crystal,” I bite out. The griddle rattles when I set the plate down a little too hard. The spatula I used to cook dinner bounces off into the grass. “Shit.”
Feeling Sutton’s gaze on my back only ratchets up my irritation.
I’m acting irrational, but I can’t stop.
His blame, coupled with the apprehension of this asshole that keeps calling me, reaches a boiling point. Sutton’saccusation sent a shiver of unease through me. A warning that I need to get out of here.
I’ve never been good at dealing with my emotions. Anger usually leads to tears, and the last thing I want is to fucking cry in front of Sutton Stone.
“You know what?” I spin around and shove the plate back into his hands. The dish slips and presses into his stomach. “I’m going home. You clean up. I’m your nanny, Sutton. Not your fucking maid.”
His jaw drops, but I don’t stick around to hear his rebuttal.
Once inside, I grab my crossbody, cooler, and my shoes. It’s not until I’m already in my car that I realize I left Bert on the counter.
But I just have to hope Sutton doesn’t kill my cactus, because I can’t go back in there.
Not right now.
17
