The Professor - Kelli Callahan Page 0,24
can’t risk anyone finding out about us. Is there even an us? I glance at him. Probably not. I mean, this is just our second date.
“I can practically see the wheels turning in your head.” Bryce chuckles. “Tell you what, let’s not think about that right now. Let’s just live in this moment.”
Nibbling my lower lips, I nod. Live in this moment. I like this moment. Every moment with Bryce feels wonderful. “I can do that.”
He beams at me. “Good.”
“You make stellar coffee and you’re an amazing cook. Marry me, Abby.”
In the process of nibbling on bacon, I gasp and begin to choke. I dissolve into a series of sputtering and coughing. “W-what?”
Bryce hurriedly pours out orange juice from the box in the middle of the table and shoves the glass into my hands. He watches me gulp it down. “That was a joke.” Amusement flashes in his eyes but there’s also a glint of concern. “Are you okay?”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. I’m so embarrassed, I want to melt into the kitchen tiles and never be seen again. Why would I even think he was serious? Bryce must think I’m an idiot. “Fine,” I squeak, unable to look at him.
“I didn’t mean―”
“It’s fine. I knew you were joking.” I didn’t. For a moment I thought he was dead serious. I’m such a fool. As if a man like Bryce would even consider the thought of marrying someone like me. Sure, he likes me. That’s obvious. But when he marries, he’s going to do it with someone from his circle. Likely a rich socialite.
Clearing my throat, I quickly change the subject. “I’m glad you’re enjoying breakfast.” I went all out. Biscuits, omelets, pastries. I have some explaining to do when Lucy gets home and sees the leftovers. I went overboard on the portions out of sheer nervousness. We’ll be eating biscuits and pastries for days.
“You belong in the kitchen.” His eyes fly to me. “I don’t mean that in a sexist, chauvinistic way. You’re just very good in the kitchen... it seems. This is only one meal after all. I’ll have to experience a few more to make a fair judgement.”
“First you angle for a kiss and now you’re angle for more meals.” I shake my head. “Absolutely shameless.”
“Damn. I was hoping you wouldn’t catch on.”
Amusement floods me and I’m also flattered. I’m thrilled he enjoys the first meal I’ve made for him. Something about this whole setting feels extremely intimate. Cooking for someone should come way later, at least after several weeks of dating. Right? Yet, here we are, one week in, having breakfast together in my kitchen.
“Uh oh. I’m starting to know that look well. What’s wrong?”
“I feel like we’re moving too fast. Do you think we are?”
Bryce silently watches me for a while. His expression is neutral, giving nothing away. His broad shoulders lift. “I don’t think so. We’re just having breakfast.”
“At my place.”
“We had dinner at mine last night. No big deal.”
“Last night was different. There was a chef and staff. This is…”
“A little more intimate.” He nods. “Yeah, I suppose. But, it isn’t too fast for me. I think when you have a strong connection with someone, it’s different. This feels perfect to me.”
My gaze is fixed on him while I fight down a wave of emotions that threaten to rise up. We do have a connection. That’s something I can never deny. Since the moment we met I’ve felt as if I’ve known him forever. I’ve never been this comfortable and open with anyone. But, how far can we really go?
“My father is in prison, Bryce. He’s Noah Knight. He deals drugs and gets into all kinds of messes. I’m nothing more than a criminal’s daughter to everyone. Being associated with me is bad for you.”
He blows out a long breath and puts his fork down. “Knowing who your father is doesn’t make me like you any less. I can only imagine the flack you get around here because of your dad but I’m not looking at that, or where you come from. I only see you, Abby. I like you. I want to be with you, not your father, so none of the extra details matter to me.”
“You want to be with me?”
A hint of pink seeps into his cheeks. It’s the second time I’ve seen him blush. The first time was in Mexico when he’d been apparently transfixed by my boobs in my bikini top. The memory makes me smile.
He rubs