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"That brings me to number two. The whole mess that got us into this. No parties while my supplies are here."

"Nobody’s throwing another party here."

"And no letting someone else throw one," she adds, watching me over her shoulder.

"Especially that." I mean it. Rooks can buy his own hotel room next time.

She writes it down, then starts the third rule. "And if you’re going to have a woman stay over, I need to know in advance."

"That’s a rule?" I ask, watching the marker move across the board.

"Yes. So I can finish early and get out of your way. I’m not trying to interrupt your…" Her hand does a wave over my general area. "... whatever you do."

"My, whatever I do?"

"You know what I mean." She puts a number three next to the rule: Advance notice of overnight guests. I move closer to read it.

Her eyes snap to where I move to. I can sense she wants to ask me to move back, but she bites her lip, probably to keep from telling me to fuck off, and then she turns back to her whiteboard.

"Any guests, or just women?" I ask.

"Anyone staying here. Obviously." She presses the marker cap against her palm. "I don’t need to come up here at five in the morning and find some woman getting coffee in your shirt."

"So I need a shirt, but she doesn’t need her own?"

"Wolf."

"I don’t have anybody staying here."

"I’m not asking you to be celibate just because I’m baking in your kitchen."

"If somebody stays, I’ll tell you. I don’t usually bring women back here."

"You don’t bring women back here?"

"Are we having a conversation about my sex life? Is that part of your rules?"

She closes her eyes briefly, then turns back to the board. "No. Of course not. We got off track."

I move a little closer again. Not intentionally. It just happens.

"You’re inching closer," she says.

"Too many concussions. I don’t see well from far away."

"Liar…" she mutters.

She underlines the rule and moves on. She’s asked about women staying over twice now, and I’d like to hear the next question if there is one.

"Four. Stay out of my work area while I’m baking."

"Where’s your work area?" I ask, looking from the board to the island.

"I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll bring painter’s tape to mark it off. I’m going to sanitize everything before I start. Once I’m working, you stay on your side."

"Then we might want to decide before I agree to stay out of it. I still need to eat."

"I’m not banning you from your kitchen." She lowers the marker and looks around, taking her time with it now. Her eyes move from the outlets along the counter to the oven and the space beside it. "Can I use this?" she asks, touching the island.