Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“No wonder you haven’t been returning my phone calls,” he tells Luke. “You’ve been busy.”
Oh.
I yank my hand away before I think better of it. Then, aware that I’m an employee and he’s a guest, I force out a laugh to help smooth over any ruffled feathers my quick retreat might have caused. I don’t want to insult him by being rude.
“I haven’t returned your calls,” Luke replies, “because you’ve been hounding me day and night and I don’t have a different answer for you.”
David completely ignores him, pinning his attention on me. “Tell me, Chloe, what’s in all the bags?”
“Dinner.”
“Ah. You must be some chef,” David notes as he helps to unload my ingredients for tonight. I’ll be making skirt steak fajitas. I’ve been marinating the meat since this morning, but I needed to go grab the rest of the items from the store: cilantro, lime, jalapeños, avocado, sour cream—the works.
“She’s the chef,” Luke tells him.
Realization dawns on David’s face and for a brief moment he looks absolutely filled to the brim with lewd thoughts, but then I blink and they’re gone. He’s back to smiling in that perfect way.
“I’m pretty good in the kitchen myself. No girlfriend or wife to rely on so I’ve had to teach myself a few things. What will you be making tonight?”
I look to Luke for input on how to proceed here. The tension in this kitchen is palpable. Luke might have accepted this man into his home, but I’m not sure why. His face looks damn near murderous as he stares at the back of David’s head.
“Fajitas,” I answer simply, just trying to keep the peace.
David groans and pats his stomach. “I love fajitas. Chicken or steak?”
“Steak.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m here so close to dinner time,” David says, turning back to Luke. “Should we go out back and have a beer? Get out of Chloe’s hair so she can cook?”
“Don’t you need to get back to the city?” Luke asks.
“It’s Saturday evening—what do I need to rush home for?” Then he looks back at me with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, I’d much rather taste Chloe’s food. Something tells me she really knows how to impress a man.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Luke asks gruffly.
So gruffly, in fact, that it startles me.
“Nothing.” David walks over to clap Luke on the shoulder like they’re just a couple of good ol’ boys having a laugh. “God. Ease up, will you? Let’s go have that beer.”
I stare daggers at David as he walks away. I hate him and there’s no convincing me otherwise. I’ve been around plenty of men like him, the smarmy rich types who think the world should be laid at their feet. Never mind that I’m a real human, flesh and blood like him. He only sees me as a plaything, something to toss around and tease for the enjoyment of himself and others.
I start aggressively washing and chopping vegetables, glad for the task. My cutting board bears the brunt of my anger. I’m putting so much force behind every slice I’m surprised the wood doesn’t splinter in two.
I hear the TV on in the game room down the hall. I know Harper’s in there watching a show, and I’m glad she was absent for that whole exchange. Maybe Luke tucked her away in there on purpose to save her from having to be around David.
It’s actually kind of disappointing that Luke would associate with a man like that. I would have thought he had better taste in friends.
Luke and David take their beers out onto the back porch, and I hear their muffled conversation. Well, David’s muffled conversation. My ears are pricked, trying to hear Luke, but he’s being quiet out there.
I fix an appetizer of chips and salsa with tomatoes from the garden, deliver a little serving to Harper in the game room, and then take some out to the guys. David is midsentence as I hurriedly set everything down, being sure to stick close to Luke as I lean over the table.
“—regret your decision. Look at Tom Brady and Michael Jordan. Brett Favre too, man. They all came out of retirement because they missed the game. Oh, what’d you bring us, Chloe?”
He adds the last part with a flirtatious tone.
“Just a little appetizer. Dinner shouldn’t be much longer.”
His lascivious gaze roves lazily over my body. Never mind that I’m fully dressed with my apron on; it’s like he can see straight through everything. Gross.
I make my escape as fast as possible and get back to work.
When I deliver the fajitas, David doesn’t miss the opportunity to ask me to sit and eat with them. He even tugs out the chair beside him.
I don’t even wait for Luke to cut in. My excuse flies as fast as a bullet.