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I’msomeone he cares about.
I just can’t figure out why.
But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe right now, I can just enjoy it.
God, do I want to enjoy it.
A loud ring pierces the air, and we both jump.
“Sorry.” James clenches his jaw as he slips his phone out of his pocket and holds it up to his ear. “Yeah?”
I turn around to give him privacy, and finish chopping the pepper I half killed before. The person on the other end of the phone is muffled, but I can make out a man’s voice.
“Sure, no problem. See you then. Bye.” James sighs and sets his phone down on the counter. “I have to cover a shift tonight. One of the guys called out sick. We have time for dinner, but I can’t do dessert.”
I mask my disappointment. “That’s okay. We can save it for another night.”
The corners of his mouth pull downward, and I nudge him with my shoulder. “Finish up with that chicken, will you? I’m starving.”
James arches a brow. “Now look who’s being bossy.”
I grin. “Don’t get between me and my food.”
We cut up the chicken and the rest of the vegetables, and then he shows me how to sauté them in the pan. We work side by side, our arms brushing on occasion. I steal a peek at him any chance I get, loving the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when he’s concentrating, the pinch between his dark brows, and how he devotes all of his attention to each little detail, as if it’s the most important thing on earth.
“So, have you been enjoying the books I got you last week?” James pulls out a chair for me at the table.
“Already been through two of them.”
His eyebrows jump as he takes the seat across from me. “Are they any good?”
“So good. I loved them both.” I fill his glass with water. “Do you read?”
“I do when I have the time. Usually at night when I can’t sleep.”
“What do you like to read?”
“Mystery and suspense. John Grisham’s my favorite author.”
“Never heard of him.” I close my eyes as I chew my first bite of chicken and noodles. “Oh my god. This is delicious.”
He offers me a satisfied smile. “Maybe next time we can do Italian. I’m trying to give you a variety of meals to make so you don’t get bored eating the same thing.”
“I will eat whatever you make. You’re the master chef.” I dab my mouth with my napkin. “Why is John Grisham your favorite author?”
He shrugs. “I just find his writing interesting.”
I set down my fork and square my shoulders. “I have an idea.”
He leans his elbows on the table and folds his hands. “I’m listening.”
“Why don’t you give me your favorite John Grisham book to read, and I’ll give you my favorite romance book. Then when we finish, we can discuss them. Kind of like a book club for two.”
“You want me to read a romance novel?”
“Are you secure in your manhood?”
He barks out a laugh. “Yes, I’d like to think I am.”
