Chapter 14
14
HONOR
SIX WEEKS AGO
F ood is my family’s love language. My grandmother taught my father, who taught me and my sister. There’s something so nice about spending the time to make something with your hands that will bring the people you care about comfort and joy. Though, I have to admit, cooking for a billionaire is a new one for me.
Julian’s kitchen is amazing. Like, actually incredible. He has everything, yet doesn’t seem to know where any of it is or what it’s used for. When I asked if I could make him dinner as a thank you for letting me crash, he stared at me for a long moment, clearly bemused, but eventually agreed. I expected him to wander off after struggling to find the things I asked for, but he hadn’t left his place in the doorway, watching me work with a slight frown.
It threw me off at first, but soon I was working through the familiar steps of one of my favorite recipes, trying not to look at the billionaire watching me, because the risk of blushing or stuttering and making an ass of myself is high. He has absolutely no right being this hot, standing barefoot in jeans and a faded T-shirt. What the actual hell is wrong with me? I broke up with Riley only a few hours ago, and now it’s taking every ounce of willpower I have not to swoon over her father.
He isn’t the man Riley painted him to be, though. The Julian Ballard I’ve seen in clips online or in the news is a commanding presence, stoic, and sure of himself to the point of coming off a little egotistical. That doesn’t mesh with the gentle, thoughtful man who met me at the door and welcomed me into his home, regardless of my relationship status with his daughter.
“You really never cook in here?” I ask, eager for a distraction.
There’s a big window that overlooks the ocean, and the sun is setting over the water.
“I never learned how,” he admits quietly. “Is this what you do? For work?”
I let out a startled laugh. “Oh man, that would be awesome. No. I actually do event coordination for a nonprofit. Organizing 5Ks and fundraising stuff like that.”
“And you like it?” I peek over at him, scrunching up my face, and he chuckles in quiet understanding. “What’s the dream, then?”
“To run my own.” My eyes fall back to the knife in my hand, slicing through the strawberries I have laid out on the cutting board. “Not even Healthy Hearts necessarily, but I want to make an impact. The world can be a really cruel, shitty place, but there’s so much goodness in it, too, don’t you think?”
Julian clears his throat, and as I hazard a glance over at him, our eyes meet. Something inside me tightens, and it’s a struggle to drag my gaze back where it belongs.
It’s surprisingly comfortable to be here with him, talking like this. Shouldn’t it be weird to be hanging out with a man whose daughter you recently dumped? A man I never even spoke to until today, and whose life is so wildly different from my own?
I guess it’s probably not as weird as wanting to see him naked, and I’m doing that just fine.