Page 27 of All For You

Our shoulders brushed, and I went to apologize again.

He turned at the same time with, “Excuse me.”

Our faces almost met, a breath away. His midnight eyes lingered on mine, and his subtle bergamot smell, citrus and musk, filled my head—clean, raw, unsettling.

Oh God, he was…gorgeous. But I didn’t like this guy, right? He’d insulted me in front of everyone last night and belittled my profession this morning.

“Onward,” I said, breaking the stare and gently placing the cheese in the cart my body disturbingly ruffled.

As we wheeled to get the chicken—he insisted we buy boneless—I could see out of the corner of my eye that he kept glancing at me. The terrible thing was, when he turned to pick out the chicken, I found myself staring at his profile, the strong line of his nose, his full mouth, the bulk of his shoulders.

And then it was back to the grocery shopping. For the next five minutes, we continued on this reckless but decisive back-and-forth.

Back at the inn,we dumped the groceries onto the counter. The kitchen was clear. Presumably, the others had already finished. I glanced around for red. No sign of Harry, one good thing. We only had forty minutes to get our recipe finished, and I didn’t need the extra stress of being filmed.

“You precook the chicken. I’ll prepare the filling,” he said.

“Are you sure? The filling is the trickiest part.”

“No problem. I know what I’m doing.”

I was still not quite convinced, even if he possessed a seemingly unshakable self-assurance.

“It’s your recipe,” I conceded.

It didn’t take me long to rub the different spices, most of which were substitutes, onto the chicken and put it on to broil.

“Why don’t you take the two dogs out for a quick run around outside?” he asked as he chopped the ingredients. “I’ll keep an eye on everything. My bedroom door is unlocked, and Max will be in there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I have it all under control.”

Did he, though? His chopping was haphazard—elbows out with huge, dramatic hacks that looked like he was going to cut himself at any minute. I itched to put my hand on his and show him how to slice properly. Within seconds, there was mess all over the counter and on the floor.

“If you’re sure, then?” I asked.

He looked up and smiled at me, the corners of his mouth upturned quite…sweetly.

Then he took in the countertop, strewn with a mess of nuts and cheese and pastry and spices. His jaw pulsed with tension.

“Anything else?” he asked in a dismissive tone that signaled,Hurry along, then.

“Do you find people respond to that unfortunate tone of yours?” I asked. “Because I’m certainly not inspired by it.”

I harrumphed and stalked out of the room, annoyed with myself as well. My attraction to him was so frustrating when he continually reminded me he was pomposity incarnate.

CHAPTER 14

Darcy

Badly done, man.

But I needed to get rid of Lizzy for ten minutes so I could focus on this bloody recipe and swear as much as I needed with all this fine chopping.

Still, I supposed there were ways of hurrying her along without that rather snippy “Anything else?” It was that I didn’t know those ways. I’d been brought up to give short, sharp, clear instructions and to expect people to follow them. Only my brother had the balls to tell me to bugger off and ask again with a “Please.”

It felt a little personal to send her up to my bedroom and fetch my dog, but Max needed loads of walks. And after this, we’d be heading straight out to the romantic afternoon.