Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Simon
I stepped into the foyer at six forty-five, and a delicious smell smacked me in the face. I set my briefcase down and walked into the kitchen.
“You’re cooking?” I asked Bella.
“Welcome home.” She grinned. “Yes. I’m cooking dinner for you.”
“I didn’t know you could cook,” I smirked.
“I can. I figured I’d make you a home-cooked meal since you took me out to that fancy dinner last night.”
“I like the way you think.” I smiled. “It smells delicious. I’ll go change. Is dinner almost ready?”
“In like five minutes.”
“Got it.” I winked and walked out of the kitchen.
I loosened my tie as I walked into the bedroom and tossed my phone onto the dresser.
Bella was cooking me dinner. I couldn’t believe it.
I’d walked through the door less than fifteen minutes ago expecting to find her ready and waiting to go out to dinner.
Instead, she wanted to cook. Who was I to argue with that? I’d rarely had a home-cooked meal.
I unbuttoned my shirt, took it off, and tossed it into the hamper in the closet.
I grabbed a pair of khakis and a black T-shirt.
I smiled as I got dressed. Fuck. A few months ago, if someone had told me I’d come home from work and get excited because a woman was making me dinner, I would have laughed in their face.
Yet, the second I stepped off the elevator and smelled whatever Bella had cooking, something strange settled inside me.
Something I couldn’t exactly identify. It almost felt like comfort, something I didn’t need.
I had a good life. A fucking great one. I ran Montclair Development Group.
I had more money than I’d ever spend, properties around the world, friends when I wanted company, women when I wanted sex, and complete freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted.
I’d built my life exactly how I wanted it.
Then Bella moved in temporarily. I had to keep reminding myself of that word.
And even though I’d only known her for a week, I started wondering what she was doing when I was at the office.
I’d catch myself checking my phone to see if she’d sent a text.
And today, I wondered which dress she bought for the charity event more times than I cared to admit.
I stared at myself in the mirror in the closet.
“This is getting fucking ridiculous,” I said.
“What is?”
I spun around and saw Bella standing in the doorway of my closet.
“Jesus Christ,” I said.
“Did I scare you?” She smiled.
“No.”
“You jumped. I saw you.”
“What are you doing here, Bella?”
“I came to tell you dinner’s ready.”
I stared at her. Probably a little too long. Something about seeing her standing in the doorway of my closet, looking completely at home, did strange things to me.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I walked out of the closet.
“You were staring at me.”
“So?” I turned and looked at her.
“So it’s weird.”
“I’ve seen you naked, Bella. I’m allowed to stare.”
Her cheeks turned a light shade of red.
“I knew that would do it.” I winked.
“You’re such an ass, Montclair.”
“I know. Let’s go eat.”
We stepped into the kitchen, and the table was set.
“Can I help with anything?” I asked.
“No. You just go sit down and act like the king you are.”
“I like that.” I grinned, taking a seat at the table.
“I’m sure you do.” She turned to the oven.
She pulled out a large baking dish, brought it to the table, and set it on a hot pad in the center. I stared at it. It looked like homemade macaroni and cheese.
“Is that macaroni and cheese?” I asked.
“Not just any ordinary mac and cheese. It’s lobster mac and cheese.”
“Oh?” My eyes lit up.
She set a plate of freshly baked bread on the table.
“Now I know you didn’t make this.” I reached over and grabbed a slice.
“I stopped at a bakery on the way home after shopping and picked it up.”
I picked up my fork and dug into the macaroni and cheese I scooped onto my plate.
“Jesus. This is really good,” I said.
“You sound surprised.” She smiled.
“I am.”
“Excuse me?” Her brow arched.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Well, you never asked.”
“In the short time you’ve been here, I’ve never seen you cook a thing.”
“Maybe I just didn’t feel like cooking for you. I wasn’t sure if it was breaking one of the rules,” she smirked.
“Yet, here we are.” I pointed my fork at her.
“Keep insulting me, Montclair, and it’ll be the last time.”
I grinned and took another bite. She’d made lobster mac and cheese from scratch, and stopped at a bakery for freshly baked bread.
I’d eaten in some of the best restaurants in the world, and somehow I was sitting in my kitchen thinking this was one of the best dinners I’d had in a long time.
Maybe it had nothing to do with the food at all.
“So,” I said.
“Yes?”
“How much did you spend today?”
She was about to put her fork in her mouth and stopped.
“That much?” I smirked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shoving the fork into her mouth.
“Bella.”
“Simon.” She slowly chewed her food.
“How much?”
“You told me you didn’t care.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because now I really want to know why you’re refusing to tell me. Forget it.” I reached inside my pocket and pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I can find out how much you spent on the app.”
“Don’t, Simon.”
“Why?” I laughed.
“Because we’re having a nice dinner.”
“And you think my seeing what you spent is going to ruin it?”
“It might.”
I chuckled as I logged in. “Okay. That was expected.” I nodded. “Oh, I see you used my card at the grocery store and the bakery.”
“Because this dinner is for you.” She smiled.
“Fair enough. Let me just make one more comment.”
“Go ahead,” she said.
“For ten thousand dollars, that dress better be fucking spectacular.”
She grabbed a slice of bread and tossed it at me. I caught it before it hit me and took a bite.
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a damn good cook. What else can you make?”
She tried her hardest not to let a smile slip, but she failed.
“You’re saving the rest of this macaroni and cheese, right?” I asked.
“That depends.”
“On what?” My brows furrowed.
“Whether you bring up what I spent again.”
“I promise I won’t. Deal?” I extended my hand to her.
She stared at it before slipping her hand into mine.
“Deal.”
I should have let go right away, but I didn’t. I curled my fingers around hers and let our hands rest on the table. There it was again. That same feeling that had been bothering me earlier.