The money was good. More than good. Between basement hours and this new arrangement, I was almost caught up on Dad’s bill. Which meant I could breathe. Walking was still rough, but I could breathe at least.
“What do you prefer?” I asked instead. “Food-wise. I made a simple stir fry for this evening.”
“That is good. Nothing complicated.”
“That is not helpful.”
He merely cocked his head and stepped further into the kitchen. My heart skipped a beat as he walked into my space.
“You will eat with me.”
I froze for half a second. Surely I misheard him.
“I’m sorry. Did you say you want me to eat with you?”
“Yes.”
My hackles lifted instantly. Why? Was this a surveillance tactic? A control mechanism? Did he think I’d steal the silverware if unsupervised?
I set the knife down carefully.
“Is that part of the job description?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why?”
He glowered at me. “I prefer conversation.”
That was . . . not the answer I expected. Conversation from the man who had barely strung together a full sentence in my presence.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“No.”
His jaw tightened. Part of me was nervous that he had figured out just how desperate I am. The thought of being a charity case made me want to crawl out of my skin. I examined him for a moment, taking him in. He could not know that I am trying to pay for my dad.
“Then why eat together?”
A beat.
“Because I would like you to eat with me.”
Which was very him, he was direct and unapologetic. I considered the math. Eating with him did not reduce my pay. It did, however, give me free food . . . at least I assumed he wouldn’t be charging me. Part of me wanted to ask, but the other part thought that might get him asking too many questions.
“Fine,” I said finally. “But if you critique my knife skills, I’m leaving.”
“I will not.”
I plated lunch and carried one dish toward the study.
The knee protested with every step. Just steady pain that radiated when I bent too far. I forced my gait into something resembling normal.
When I entered the dining room, he looked up immediately.
“You’re limping,” he said.
