Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
ROMILLY
I smirk at Bash. “Let me make you lunch. It’s the least I can do for the dragon-slayer.
” After the way he stepped in, saving me from managing all those kids by myself, I can’t help but feel some gratitude.
Besides, I bet he’s hungry. It’s lunch time, and my own stomach is currently rumbling in discomfort.
Those hooded blue eyes jerk to my face with amusement. “If you want to spend more time with me, all you have to do is ask.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just grateful for your help. ”
He grins. “Well, now I feel you’ve invited me over out of obligation. How uncomfortable.”
A surge of annoyance races through me. Oh, I’ll give you uncomfortable. “Bash, I’d love to have you over for lunch,” I say through my teeth. “You’re a delight to be around, and your blatant flirting doesn’t affect me one bit.”
“See? Was that so hard?” He checks the time on his phone. “I just need to stop at home and then I’ll be on my way to entertain you with my wittiness.”
I nod, but my stomach somersaults. What was I thinking?
What did I just initiate? All our encounters have been strictly business so far.
Even our coffee date was about offering him a job.
We’ve never spent time together outside of work or church, so I can’t imagine what it will be like to have lunch with him.
Just the two of us. No business involved.
The thought has adrenaline racing in my veins. “Sounds good. I’ll text you my address.”
My mind spins like it’s on fast-forward as I drive home. What if Jasper scratches him? What if he has food allergies like Addison? What in the world should I make us to eat?
By the time I park in the driveway at home, I’ve settled on something, but I text Bash just to make sure.
Me
You aren’t allergic to anything other than hard work, are you?
Bash
Sunshine and small children will also do me in. Why? Hiding either of those in your cupboards?
Me
Very funny.
Bash
I’m on my way. Be there in a few minutes.
I try not to smile and fail as I set down my phone. At least he won’t go into anaphylactic shock like Addison did last year at the Miss Meadow pageant. Hearing about that whole thing almost gave me a heart attack.
With a sigh, I shift my gaze around to make sure my place looks as cozy and inviting as possible.
I try to see what Bash will see when he gets here—warm light filtering in through heavy curtains, soft rugs in earth tones, and plants on every surface.
It smells like vanilla and the sourdough bread I baked last night. Perfect.
God, why am I excited to have lunch with Bash? Are you trying to tell me something? If not, please make this excitement disappear.
Bash, of all men. I can’t afford to like him because dating a co-worker would be messy enough. Dating Bash—my only help at work—would be especially messy now that I need to raise my rating. Somehow, I doubt a workplace romance would help things.
“What do you think, Jasper?” I tap his nose as he slinks over, standing on the table even though he’s not supposed to.
Today, he’s wearing a crocheted hat that makes him look like a lion.
Most cats would probably play with the tassels and take it off, but Jasper is special. I pet him until he purrs.
And then I hear knocking.
My stomach does that annoying little flip again.
You don’t want a man, Romilly. You don’t need a man.
I repeat it in my head like a mantra as I walk to the front door and gently creak it open.
He’s standing there in a wooly blue scarf and olive green jacket, shoulders shrugged against the chilly afternoon air. Bash’s silky blond hair blows around his face, making me want to run my hands through the strands. He’s not even inside yet, but his sandalwood scent invades my nostrils.
“Welcome to my cottage.” I open the door wider.
“Why, thank you.” He walks in and removes his shoes at the entryway without me even having to ask. Despite his gruffness, there’s a refined, classy vibe to him that makes me wonder what his parents are like. “Your home is beautiful, like you,” he says.
I blush. “Thank you. Make yourself comfortable. I’m about to make us sandwiches.”
“Wait a minute…I must be hallucinating. I just complimented you and you didn’t get angry at me.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry. I must need water or something.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m—uh—going to step outside for a moment. I desperately need to have a smoke.”
The look in his eyes makes me feel bad for him. It reminds me of the hunger I see in the eyes of the homeless at the soup kitchen. “The yard is that way.” I point, and he heads past the living room to the back door.
I uncover the sourdough loaf I baked last night. Apparently, there’s nothing more comforting than fresh bread. At least, according to my mom. And staring down at my masterpiece, I can’t help but agree.
Bash’s voice cuts through my thoughts from the living room. “Hey there, kitty,” he says.
Oh, no. Jasper is going to break him. Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I peer around the kitchen corner to the living room where Bash is now sitting on my sofa beside Jasper.
A lollipop stick juts out of his mouth, and he’s holding a fidget spinner.
Bash sets it down and reaches a tentative hand toward Jasper, probably expecting him to sniff it like a normal pet would.
Instead, Jasper bats at him with his paw and—claws fully extended—knocks Bash’s spinner onto the ground, sending it rolling across the room.
“So that’s how it is, huh, you little lion-cat?
” Bash mutters under his breath. He gets up and retrieves the toy.
He sits back down and rotates it a few times, but Jasper’s tail flicks against his arm.
Bash gently pushes him away, but Jasper just swipes at Bash’s spinner, sending it flying from his hands again.
“Seriously, mate?” He glares at the cat.
A giggle bursts from my lips. “Um, Bash?”
He looks at me from the sofa. His expression is unreadable. “Yes?”
“Is Jasper bothering you? Because I can totally move him to my room.”
He gives a half-hearted glare at the cat, who is now lounging as if nothing had happened. “No, no. I think Jasper’s just plotting my demise. No need to worry.”
“Right. And ruining your smoking session?” I nod at his hands with a puzzled smile.
“Alright, then. If you must know, I’ve quit smoking, and this… thing helps tremendously.”
“So, you didn’t go outside and smoke just now?”
He shrugs. “I meant to, but then I thought about it.” He glares at the spinner in his hand. “Better than wrecking my lungs, right?”
“Oh, absolutely.” My chest feels warm and light. Part of me wants to laugh at Bash holding a child’s toy with those strong, fighter’s hands, but there’s something annoyingly attractive about it.
The only sound in the room is Jasper’s low purr—probably gloating over the chaos he’s caused for Bash.
I put my hands on my hips. “I have to admit, your bad boy look is tarnished in my eyes now.”
“You think I’m a bad boy?” A laugh escapes him. “I guess I’m not surprised. Most people I’ve met assume the same thing.”
“No, no. You used to be one, but now I know you like fidget spinners.”
“What can I say? They really help.”
I try not to smile, but my mouth betrays me. “I’m going to finish up lunch. I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m never not hungry, Romilly. It’s time you knew.” He rises from the couch.
I roll my eyes, walking back to the kitchen.
Bash follows me and glances at the bread waiting on the counter. “How did you learn to bake?”
“My mom taught me. I’ve been helping her cook family dinners once a week since I was a kid, but it’s been a while. My parents are on a cruise right now.”
Bash steps aside as I move around the kitchen to gather all the ingredients. When it’s time to slice the bread, I hand him a knife. “Go ahead.”
He smirks, twirling the knife in his fingers. “What? Do you see a dragon that needs slaying?”
“Just cut the bread, Bash.”
“Fine.” He places the knife in the center of the loaf, and I reposition his hands at the end.
He lets me guide them to the correct place.
This close, I can feel his soft breath on my arm.
The fine hair along his fingers tickles my palms, and everywhere his skin touches me makes me feel like I’m burning up.
I let go of his hands and clear my throat. “Okay, go ahead and slice.”
I watch him slowly create three uneven slices of bread and nudge him with my elbow. “On second thought, maybe I should do it.”
He scoffs, though the bread slices are clearly a crumbling mess. “No way, I’ve got this. I’m practically an expert now.”
I shake my head but don’t press. Instead, I set the table with our plates and fill the misshapen sandwiches with meats, cheese, and veggies. I also pour us each a bowl of the leftover minestrone soup I made yesterday.
When the table is ready, our steaming bowls and sandwich plates waiting, we sit across from each other at my small wooden table.
There’s really only enough space for three people to sit comfortably, but when Zara, my parents, and my brother, Aiden, occasionally visit, the five of us somehow manage to squeeze in together.
And bumping knees with my family is fine.
Bumping knees with Bash on the other hand… not fine.
“Oops, sorry,” he says, bringing his feet in so they’re not touching mine.
“It’s not your fault.” I sigh and wrinkle my nose at the piece of furniture. “It’s this tiny table. But I don’t really have company often, so it wouldn’t be smart to splurge on a bigger one.”
Bash studies me.
“What?” I try not to fidget under his gaze.
“Have you always been so responsible?”
“I—I don’t know. I just don’t want to have any regrets, I guess.”
“And buying a new table would be something you’d regret?” He gestures to the small, round tabletop. Neither of us has taken a bite yet, and hungry as I am, the way Bash looks at me has my nerves jangling in a way that affects my appetite.