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I decide not to press him on it. “Well, it smells great,” I concede awkwardly. “I don’t want to eat your food, though, so I’m probably just going to order something in. Plus, it’s probably better if you’re not paying for my food and letting me stay here for free.”

That gets Lucas’s attention. Wiping his hands on the dish towel thrown over his shoulder—why is that so attractive?—he turns toward me with a frown.

“Charli, you don’t have to keep score. I could feed you three meals a day, and I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I don’t know how to see it his way. I’ve been on my own for so long, I don’t know how to let someone else take the reins for a change. Even if it’s just for the weekend.

“If it’s a monetary concern, does it help if I tell you I make a shit ton of money and wouldn’t even notice the cost?”

I let out a bark of surprised laughter. “You’re such an ass,” I say with a chuckle.

“Ah, but I’m a rich ass who can afford to house and feed you for a weekend,” he says with a grin. “Now…any other excuses I can shoot down?”

I sigh, knowing I’ve lost this argument. “Just one. I’m vegetarian.”

His gaze moves down to the skillet and over his countertop where all the ingredients are laid out. I can see the calculations flying around his head.

“I’ll just skip the bacon,” he says eventually.

And then he promptly dumps the bacon in the skillet into the trash.

“Lucas!” I exclaim, gaping. “You didn’t have to throw it out. I just wasn’t going to eat it!”

He shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t going to eat something in front of you that you won’t also be eating. That’s silly.”

I slump onto the barstool with a sigh. And apparently, that’s the end of the argument, because he turns back to the stove with a clap and says, “Now…what do you want in your quiche?”

FIFTEEN

LUCAS

“Lucas, I have unfortunate news.”

I lift an eyebrow at Charli across the kitchen counter. “Oh yeah?”

She nods and leans back on the barstool with a heavy exhale. “I’m afraid you’re going to need to quit law. You are morally obligated to become a chef.”

My lip twitches. “I don’t think the firm’s partners would be excited to hear that.”

She waves me off. “They’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are missing your calling. This was incredible.”

Pride explodes in my chest. I always knew I was a good cook, but something about Charli liking something I made her… It has me buzzing.

I reach for her plate and silverware. “Wait till you see what I make for dinner, then.”

She slaps my hand away and takes my plate from my hands. “You cook, I clean. Mama’s rules.”

I huff a laugh. “In this instance, are you Mama?”

“Uh, no,” she mumbles, ducking her head as she slips around me to the sink, seemingly shutting down. “I meant my mom. It was one of the rules she drilled into me when I was a kid.”

It’s too easy of an opening to not ask her about her family. Charli intrigues me in every way, and I’m dying to know more about how she became the person she is.

I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest as she sets to hand-washing the dishes. “Are you close with your mom?”

Her movements stutter, soap splashing everywhere. I think she’s not going to answer, but after a moment, she says, “Yeah. She was the best person I knew.”

Her voice is sad, and combined with the past tense, I pick up that her mom has passed away.