Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMIL
“We’re done for the day.”
Our workday had started somewhere around seven that morning, and now it was past six.
Aside from a quick snack at lunch, Anders had been going nonstop.
Our weeklong project had now been going on for more than a month.
What I’d noticed over the past several weeks he’d been out here was that if he wasn’t given a direct order to stop working, he would push straight through into the night.
I’d started making a point of finishing early, hoping he’d take the hint. So far, he hadn’t.
“But I’m not done with the spreadsheet,” he protested.
I reached over, made sure the document was saved, and then shut his laptop. “At least for tonight you are.”
Rather than argue, Anders nodded and leaned back in his chair. Some of the tension he’d arrived with had eased, but I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking it was gone. John’s accusation still hung in the air while the audit ground on.
“The last couple of weeks have been such a grind. I think dinner out is called for.” I started packing up my stuff so I could head back to the house before getting ready to leave, but Anders’s face, which had been open a moment ago, closed off completely.
“I’ve been wanting to go over to Wild Fern.
My friend and his boyfriend swear by it.
If I’m lucky, I’ll have some good company while I eat. ”
“I’m sure you’ll have a nice time.” Anders’s voice sounded scratchy, and I hoped he wasn’t coming down with something.
“I hope we’ll have a good time,” I clarified.
“We?”
Anders’s face was a vault. I’d never seen him so expressionless, but his eyes couldn’t hide the worry behind them. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew to my bones that Anders needed me tonight.
“Yes, we. Assuming you want to eat dinner with me. I shouldn’t have presumed so much.”
“You don’t have to invite me out to dinner just because you don’t want to leave me at home.”
Happiness bloomed in my chest when Anders described this place as home. I was glad. Well, glad wasn’t quite the right word, but it would have to do for now. I was grateful I could give him some refuge because fuck knew he needed it after the pressure he’d been living under.
“I want you there.” I hoped he heard the sincerity in my voice because it was absolutely true. I liked who I was around Anders, and how I felt when he was there. The more of that I could get, the better.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“Table by the window, all right for you?” the server asked as we walked up to the host stand. I glanced at Anders, who nodded toward the window, so I turned back to the server and agreed.
The Pacific Northwest vibes of the place were unmistakable, but it was early enough on a weekday that it wasn’t too crowded or loud. I couldn’t help but notice how close Anders stood next to me, and although he was broader and an inch or two taller, I still felt a tug of protectiveness toward him.
We wound our way through the tables, weaving through the tight space. At one point, we had to squeeze past a pulled-out chair, and on instinct, I placed my hand on the small of his back. A spark of awareness shot through me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Very often, Anders was the first thing I thought about in the morning. What was he doing? Was he already at work? I knew the answer to both.
He’d be prepping for the day. Making sure nothing was out of place in the main areas of the cottage.
Making sure a fresh pot of coffee was brewing and ready at seven when I walked through the door.
He’d gotten into the habit of bringing it to my desk and refilling it throughout the morning.
At lunchtime, he set the table. We usually shared meals, and those moments had very quickly become the best parts of my day.
Anders’s genuineness and kindness seeped into every part of his life. It showed in how he spoke to the delivery guy, or when he talked to Rory, his best friend, who was also, apparently, a writer forever fighting characters who refused to cooperate.
“Hey, guys, what can I get you to drink?” the server asked.
“Do you have lemonade?” I asked.
“We do.”
“Perfect. He’ll have a lemonade, light ice, please, and I’ll take whatever you have on tap that’s local,” I answered.
Anders nodded softly, a small smile pulling at his mouth. I’d eaten with him enough times to know he preferred lemonade. I thought it was too sweet. The first few times he’d apologized for his kid-like preferences, I shut it down immediately.
Anders opened and closed his mouth a few times while we waited for our drinks to arrive. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but I didn’t push. Whatever it was, he’d get there in his own time.
I slid the menu back toward him so he had something to focus on. “What do you think looks good?”
He scanned the page, brow furrowing just a little. “I can’t decide between the clam chowder and the mushroom risotto.”
“Then don’t,” I said absently, already half a thought ahead.
The server chose that moment to reappear, notepad in hand. “What can I get you two to eat?”
I handed the menu back without looking at it. “Mushroom risotto for him. Steak frites, medium rare, for me. We’ll share a bowl of chowder as our appetizer.”
Anders blinked, then nodded, a soft sound of agreement leaving him like the decision had settled something inside his chest.
In only a few moments, a basket of sourdough was placed on the table.
Anders, true to form, buttered the bread and slid it onto my plate.
When our appetizer arrived, he unwrapped my silverware, laid out my utensils, and handed me my napkin.
Following his usual pattern, he waited until I began eating before taking his first bite.
The chowder was delicious, but watching Anders enjoy it was even more so.
He savored each bite, and his almost imperceptible moans of pleasure sent my nerves on a collision course with my brain.
I forced myself to concentrate on the scenery outside because if I spent too much time studying Anders, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep myself composed.
I felt his knee brush mine under the table, and he didn’t move away.
When our main dishes arrived, Anders repeated the process of making sure my food was arranged correctly for me before turning to his own.
“How’s the risotto?” I asked.
“It’s amazing, but that doesn’t seem like a good enough description. Would you like to try a bite?” he asked shyly.
“Yes, please.”
Anders scooped up a bite and held the fork out across the table.
Maybe he didn’t intend to feed it to me, but taking it from his hand felt more awkward.
Unintentionally, our eyes locked while I took the bite, and I felt the spark of awareness between us.
Anders immediately dropped his gaze to his lap.
That was unfortunate because he had pretty blue eyes flecked with deeper blue, like an endless ocean.
“C’mere, I’ll share my steak.”
He obediently took the food from my fork. A blush stained his cheeks, which was adorable on such a big man. He smiled after swallowing and agreed it was delicious. I cut a few more pieces and set them on the edge of his risotto plate. His shy thank you was worth giving up a little of my dinner.
Our dinners were finished, the plates stacked and ready for removal, when Anders cleared his throat a few times. He took a deep breath, then blurted, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Of course. Go ahead.” I put down my fork and gave him my full attention. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but he straightened his shoulders and sat a little taller in his chair.
“I need to feel more useful.”
“Useful?”
“Yes. You’ve been incredibly generous, letting me stay out here, and I appreciate that you keep extending the project.”
“I’m not extending the project,” I said. “The project is being extended because there’s more to do, but go on.”
“I need to feel helpful, and I can do more to earn my keep.” Anders leaned back in his chair, his eyes dropping to his lap again.
“There’s no obligation created by you staying in the cottage.
It’s part of the job I’m paying you to do.
” The words came out easily enough, but I wasn’t entirely convinced by them.
Something about the way Anders talked about what he needed tugged at me, making me want to lean in instead of back.
It wasn’t just professional, and I knew that, even if I didn’t know what it was instead.
He did this kind of care naturally, without asking for permission, without keeping score.
Wanting him to be settled, to be okay, had crept up on me somewhere along the way.
I couldn’t have said when it happened. I only knew that he needed this, and whatever line I was supposed to be guarding didn’t feel as solid as it probably should have.
“And I appreciate that,” he said softly. “I just… I need to feel useful.” The repetition of his phrasing caused me to sit up and take notice. This wasn’t about who took out the office trash.
“What would that look like for you?”
“I could do more around the house. Like, um, I could cook or clean, make sure everything’s in order.
I’m pretty fantastic at ironing a suit.” The hopeful tone in his voice was unmistakable, and I knew without question that if I shut him down now, he’d never open up like this again.
“Make sure your shoes are properly polished.” Ouch.
I never got around to doing it myself, and the fact that he’d noticed made me feel like a slob.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Right now, I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“You’re absolutely not. You’re earning your keep, and you don’t need to do more. You’re doing the job I hired you to do, and you do it fantastically.” Anders nodded at that, and I decided to go all in. “But you need this on a personal level, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said quietly. “I really do.”