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The air around us is charged with all sorts of tension that I don’t want to dissect, so instead, I lift my chin and stride forward, pushing past him and catching a whiff of some expensive aftershave that does nothing to quell the burning desire in the pit of my stomach. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a chicken to check on.”
“By all means,” he murmurs and steps aside, to my surprise. I half expected him to block my way completely.
“Humph,” I mutter and stalk off, feeling his gaze on my arse as I head back the way I came, now even more curious what was down the corridor that he didn’t want me to see.
Back in the kitchen, which is a gorgeous farmhouse-type affair, I check on the roast and, satisfied that it is coming along nicely, I check all the cupboards and familiarise myself with this room if none of the others. I daren’t go back out there now in case Gideon is lurking, ready to pounce on me with this smooth voice and choice words.
But there is only so much I can do in here. The rest of my work is out there. The chicken is going to be a couple of hours yet, and I don’t feel like sitting in here twiddling my thumbs when there is stuff to be done. I need to find a dining room for a start and set the table, so I peer around the door, relieved that the coast is clear.
Trying to be as stealthy as Gideon is, I check a couple of rooms close to the kitchen, figuring it’s a safe bet that the dining room is one of them. Luck is on my side, and I find it quickly, marvelling at the twenty-seater table with the chandelier overhead.
“Wow. Nice.”
Crossing over to the sideboard that runs most of the way down the far side, I search for cutlery and glassware. Setting a perfect table for one at the head, I’m satisfied with the work and return to the kitchen to recheck the chicken. I’m being overly paranoid, but this has to be flawless. I will never live it down if Gideon can find anything to complain about.
Bending down to check the oven yet again a few minutes later, I hear the kitchen door open.
After a short pause, Gideon says, “Can I help with anything?”
Standing upright, I turn to him with an incredulous expression. “You can cook?”
He smiles slowly, and it’s sexy as fuck. “That surprises you?”
“Sophia called you a helpless idiot.”
“Ah, okay, so the truth comes out. She’s not wrong, but I didn’t think you would tell me unless I tricked it out of you.”
“Dammit!” I exclaim, my cheeks heating up, which has nothing to do with the oven burning my arse. Kicking the door shut, I inhale slowly. “She didn’t really say that.”
“Liar. And a bad one.”
“Was she?”
He shrugs. “Probably not.”
“You don’t know yourself if you are a helpless idiot?”
He snickers. “I don’t know which bit to be more offended at, the helpless or the idiot.”
“If you are neither, then there should be no offence,” I point out.
“True, but I am probably one or the other when it comes to making a roast dinner that smells delicious, by the way.”
Beaming at the compliment, I say, “Do you still want me to leave?”
Narrowing his eyes, he contemplates my question. “You can stay until after I’ve eaten.”
“Gee, thanks.” Unfortunately, I’m not sure if he’s being serious or not. I mean, if he really wants me to go, I’ll go. I’ll just have to tell Sophia he threw me out and return her money to her, which is sitting in my bank account, probably making the bank staff suspicious and wary and possibly wondering if they should call the police. When he doesn’t give me more, I push it. “Don’t you want me to clean up first?”
“Hmm, good point. I can work the dishwasher, but Sophia reckons I need schooling on how to pack it correctly.”
Giggling, I press my lips together so it doesn’t sound too flirty. “An incorrect pack will definitely ruin the experience.”
“You can leave after that,” he says quietly, his gaze steady as he fixes on mine.
“Sure you don’t need me to do some laundry?” I ask in just as quiet a tone.
I feel like we have descended into some weird kind of kink here. Like talking about household chores turns us on to the point where we’re going to rip at each clothes and fuck like bunnies on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
