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“Yeah.” I watch as she begins to dice the tomato. “Wouldn’t have guessed you cook by your previous kitchen.”
She lifts those sexy as hell cat-like green eyes to mine and her full lips part. “It wasn’t my kitchen. It was Cara’s, and she made that clear. Mostly, me and Marley tried to stay out of her way.” She rolls her pink lips, making them pinker. “I mostly stuck to bagged salads.”
I’m not sure I believe her. “Where’d you learn to cook?”
She laughs, giving her attention back to the tomato. “Self-taught.”
“Really?”
She nods. “What about you. Where’d you learn?”
“My mom.”
Her smile is small and filled with an emotion I’m not sure I like. Her reply is quiet. “That’s sweet.”
“Guess so.”Why can’t I stop watching this girl?“Mainly, figure she didn’t want me to starve or ruin my guts by living off takeout.” I’m not usually the guy who asks, who pries, but when she pushes the cut tomato to the side and starts on the green onions, I hear myself doing just that. “What about your mom?”
She doesn’t look at me. “It was just me and Dad.”
Oh shit. Something tight forms in my chest as I watch her. Then I go and pry some more. “Did she—”
Her eyes lift to mine and she blinks, those long, thick lashes sweeping down over high cheekbones dusted pink. “No. She’s not dead, or she wasn’t when she left. I don’t know now. Neither of us has heardfrom her in over nineteen years.” She shrugs like it doesn’t hurt, but I think it does. “She left when I was two.”
“Your mom left you and your dad?” I ask, disbelief plain as day between us. “When you were two?”
“Mmhmm.”
What kind of mom leaves her child?You hear all the time about dudes walking away, but a mother? I can’t make sense of that. Can’t make sense of a man who calls himself a man and walks away from his kid, either. But a mother feels somehow worse. Maybe it’s society, stigma. Whatever it is, it feels real damn bad.
“That’s rough.” My voice is hoarse.
She shrugs again. “Is what it is. I had a good life. Dad is the best.” She pulls in breath. “But he’s a crap cook, so to keep us both alive, I took over the kitchen early.”
“I’m not like your previous roommate. You want to cook, have at it.”
“I will, thanks.”
“But uh,” I palm the back of my neck as she gives me those fuck-me green eyes. “If one of us cooks, we make enough for the other, deal?”
She laughs, and hell, but I like the sound. “Deal.”
I slice into the pack of bacon, dropping it into the pan. We don’t speak until it starts to sizzle. Then I say, “Speaking of our other deal—” She gives me those eyes again. “I’d like to start. Got a gig tonight at a clubdowntown. Like it if you came.” I shoot her a flirtatious grin. “Showed the world just how into your new boyfriend you are.”
Her cheeks get red, and she wets her lips. I suddenly want to know what those lips taste like; how soft they’d feel under mine.The fuck?
I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Um, I work tonight.”
I stiffen.Already lying to me?“Heard Addy tell you last night your weekend shifts are cut.”
“I have two jobs.”
“You have two jobs? And you’re in university?” I’m still not sure I believe her. Like I said, I’ve been watching her. Not stalker-style, but I needed to make sure her life fit what I needed her for, that she didn’t have any bad habits I couldn’t have tied to me. So, I know that when she wasn’t in class or at Addy’s Ace or in the library studying, she was at that shitty apartment.
“I work remotely billing extended health care for a psychology practice. They have three clinics, so there’s a lot of billing. It’s not just me who handles it, but I emailed for more bills last night when Addy cut my shifts and they sent me the bills this morning. I have—a few in my queue.”
“You’re serious?”
