One bouquet? Perhaps. Seven is overdoing it. “I’ve started giving them away to the patients,” I say. “There was enough for Mrs. O’Donnell to make the bouquets for her granddaughter’s wedding. She was incredibly grateful. You’re invited now, in case you’re interested.”
Luke’s lips curve with amusement, but it stops short of being a full smile. He’s trying his hardest to look serious. “It must be my delightful self-deprecating notes that worked on you then?”
I roll my eyes. “Surely you could have read a few pages ofLittle Women. Didn’t you go to an exclusive boarding school?”
“I was dumped there because my mother preferred drinking with her girlfriends to looking after me.” His smile slips for a fraction of a second. It’s long enough for me to realize the truth.
“Oh.” The shame of bringing up such a painful memory for him drops my gaze to my feet. I never meant to be cruel. “I’m sorry.”
“So was she.” The small moment of vulnerability I glimpsed vanishes behind a smirk. “I created havoc every day until the school politely asked my parents never to bring me back.”
“Well, I suppose it all worked out. If you stayed, you might have become a…a…lawyer?”
“Good God. You truly hate me, don’t you?”
I laugh. “An…economist?”
“A life behind a desk is a fate worse than death. Ah…” He forces an apologetic smile. “Forsomeof us.”
“Well, it would be everyone’s death if I were let loose in your kitchen. It turns out I’m utterly hopeless at baking.”
“What about cooking?”
“I’m less hopeless at Mediterranean food.”
“Italian?”
I shake my head.
He lifts his grocery bag. “Care to have some whipped up?”
“Luke…”
“I’m not here to bulldoze you into forgiving me. I promise. I truly just want to talk, and since the only talent I have is cooking…”
“I’m sure you’re talented at hundreds of things.”
“Well, I had thought I was rather good at one or two things…but after the assessment ofokayandfine, I’m not so sure anymore.” He winks.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry. Your skills in the boudoir…are…”
“Oh, Elsie.” He shakes his head.“Boudoir?”
“Would you prefer if I saidin the bedchamber?”
“Good God.”
“Your skills are…satisfactory.”
“Afterfineandokay, I’m accepting the upgrade tosatisfactoryand running with it. So.” He jiggles the bag. “What do you say? An authentic home-cooked Italian meal from a renowned chef? Have you eaten?”
“Maybe…” My oversized sweater does nothing to muffle the loud grumbles of my stomach at the mention of food.
He cocks an eyebrow.
I sigh. “Okay. Fine. I’m starving. But just so you know, no matter how delicious this dinner is, there is absolutely no chance we will be engaging in any form of sexual intercourse.”
“And just so you know, sayingboudoirand phrases likeengaging in sexual intercoursehas the opposite effect you think it does.”
