Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He hesitates for a moment longer and then gives me a sheepish smile and takes the spoon from the stewed tahaari. I help myself to the closest plate, and for the next few moments, we're quiet, loading up our dishes. I'm not entirely surprised when the plate he sets in front of himself is absolutely heaped with food. One of the things I like about Rektar is that the man loves good food. I love baking, so to me, that's an important quality in a guy. I can't eat all of my own baking, but if I had someone else to bake for, it's not so bad.
Rektar tastes the first dish and then moves on to the next. He eats a mouthful of each one before turning to me. "This food is incredible, Lucy. I'm honored."
I preen at his praise, wiggling in my seat. I knew he liked my baked goods that I brought into town for him, but to hear that he enjoys all my cooking gives me a special sort of pleasure. I watch as he tucks into the food as if he hasn't eaten in months. Having company is just so…nice. Even having someone at the table while you both eat feels less lonely. I know many of the human women on Risda and we all keep in touch via comms and the monthly book club gathering but the rest of the time, it's an utterly lonely situation. It's one I thought I've handled pretty well up until this point, but having Rektar at my table makes me realize how much I need company.
I really do need a husband. It's annoying to realize that, because I don't need help around the house. I just want company. Someone to talk to. Heck, I'd settle for a roommate. It doesn't have to be sexual…although I really do like sex, so that'd be a bonus. I take a few more bites, my thoughts focused on the problem at hand.
Rektar clears his throat, and when I look up, I realize his plate is empty. "Is it all right with you if I have more?"
Smiling, I gesture at the food. "Help yourself. I made extra." Looks like there won't be leftovers after all, and I don't mind in the slightest. Already, I'm thinking about what I can make for breakfast since he has such a big appetite. I have eggs I get from a neighboring farm and I could make a nice, fluffy quiche with some greens and veggies tossed in…
"Truly, this is the best meal I have had in years," Rektar tells me as he sets another heaping plate in front of himself. He gives me a closed-mouth smile that seems warm. "You are very kind to invite me to eat with you."
I sip my water, watching him eat. He acts like I've done a massive favor for him, just being polite and feeding the man. "Do you and Khex not cook, then?"
"The military provides ration bars for our needs," Rektar says, and then takes another heaping bite of my tahaari pie. I hear the tiniest groan of pleasure from him, and it makes my insides clench deliciously.
I take another bite, shrugging. "A ration bar is enough to keep you alive, but I don't imagine that eating them day after day is very enjoyable. You're more than welcome to come by anytime and I'll fix you a home-cooked meal."
He glances over at me, and the look on his face is one of rueful amusement. "A ration bar is my home cooking. This is more of a treat than you know." Rektar gestures at the food with his utensils. "And it is taking all of my control not to eat all of it."
"You need to work on that control, then," I tease as he adds a bit more of the root pie to his plate.
He freezes, as if he's done something wrong, and looks over at me guiltily.
"I'm kidding," I say softly, reaching out and touching his arm. "I don't normally make all of this just for myself. I made it for you, and it makes me happy to see someone enjoying my cooking." I give his lower arm a friendly squeeze…and immediately, that feels like a mistake. For all that he's an enormous chunk of a man, his arms are absolutely granite. He's not fat, he's just built like a brick wall, solid and thick. I feel flushed and want to keep squeezing that muscle of his, just because of the reaction it gives me.
I pull away, though, because I don't want to be creepy after he's shown me he's not interested. Smiling, I reach for my utensils again and pick at my own food.
We eat in silence.
I hate silence. I get enough of that alone. I think about what he said, that ration bars are his home cooking, and I have to ask. "Your mother served you ration bars?" It seems a shitty way to bring up a kid, but what do I know about alien society? Even though my last owner was mesakkah, he was also very elderly and didn't talk much about his childhood. Surely it can't hurt to ask.