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So I squashed all the insecurity and got things cooking, only realizing how unprepared this kitchen was to cook in.
But I did my best, turning on the internet radio on my phone after finding the wifi router and plugging in the code so I wasn’t using my steadily diminishing data, and got to work.
I had just about finished using the slotted spoon to scoop the pasta out of the water since I’d forgotten a colander and Emilio didn’t even have a proper plate to use instead, when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me.
You could say I was a bit… on edge. You know, with the whole being an imposter in someone’s house thing and all.
So, yeah, I flew around, pot still in hand. And the movement made the boiling hot starchy water fly up out of the sides, spilling all over my clothes and hands, prompting me to drop it, water flying everywhere.
“Shit,” Emilio said as the stunned second passed, and the burn started to set in.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I hissed, not sure what else to do, so I just started, well, stripping off my wet clothes. Yep. Right there in the kitchen. In front of my new boss.
Off went the shirt, then the pants, leaving me standing there in nothing but my very unimpressive beige bra and not matching in any way whatsoever daisy-printed panties.
Yep.
That was my day.
Emilio’s gaze moved over me.
But it was quick.
So quick, in fact, that underneath all the embarrassment and pain, I had a healthy mix of, well, disappointment. Because what man saw a reasonably attractive woman standing there in her underthings and barely spared her a second glance?
Someone who probably slept with all of the most beautiful women in the city, that was who.
“Here,” Emilio said, moving forward, expensive shoes sloshing in the spilled water, completely oblivious to the fact that he was probably ruining them, and reaching out to grab my arm, pulling me toward the sink.
He moved in behind me, arms going around me to turn on the tap at just barely cool, then pushed my hands under the stream, since they’d gotten the most direct contact with the hot water.
“You okay?” he asked, voice soft, concerned, and very, very close to my ear.
Close enough that his warm breath tickled the shell of it, making a little shiver course through me. Luckily, just one of those internal ones. Because the only way this entire situation could be even more humiliating would be if I had an outward shiver that told my new boss that I was having a… reaction to him.
I mean, I was.
But I was glad my slutty libido was keeping that shit to itself.
“My pride is pretty fully and completely bruised right now,” I said, getting a little chuckle out of him. And, again, because of his nearness, I actually felt that chuckle.
Unfortunately this time, the shiver was external.
Fortunately, Emilio was a nice, clueless dude who immediately thought I was simply cold because I was all but naked and having cool water splashed over my arms.
“This is one of those situations where I kind of wish I wore a suit jacket,” Emilio said. “Come on. Why don’t you go get changed? I’ll find some burn shit.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him. Sure, my skin was a little pink, but nothing was peeling or bubbling, so I figured it was minor.
“Avery,” he said, shutting off the tap. “Go get changed, and I will get something for the burns.”
Alright.
Bossy voices had no right to be that hot, damnit.
“Okay,” I agreed, hoping he didn’t hear the breathlessness in my voice. Or if he did, that he figured it had to do with my aforementioned embarrassment.
With that, I turned.
“It should be cold now,” he said when I paused at the water on the floor.
I tipped a toe into it to find he was right before I rushed off, inwardly hoping I was jiggling in the right ways as I left the room and went up the stairs in a mad dash.
“Jesus,” I hissed as I leaned back against my bedroom door, taking a few, deep, steadying breaths before I went to grab some clothes—a pair of yoga pants and a loose tee, then made my way back downstairs to find Emilio already in the kitchen trying to sop up the water mess with an insane amount of paper towels.
“Hey, that’s my job,” I insisted.
“Go sit. My brother is bringing the burn shit by in less than five minutes,” he said, tone brooking no argument, but kind, as he threw the soaked paper towels into the trash, then grabbed some more.
It just took a couple of minutes, but I felt guilty the whole time before he finally finished.
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head at me when I opened my mouth. “You don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” he said.
