pretext of looking at the carrot.
I reach back into the drawer and pull out a chef’s knife. I take the peeler out of her hand and replace it with the knife.
“Then, you can cut the carrot into pieces.” My hand glides over hers as I show her how to properly cut it. I can feel her pulse beating faster in her wrist.
I take a step back and let her continue by herself. She takes a deep breath as she adjusts to the emptiness.
“So, what is your grand plan for Lily now?” I ask, leaning on the bar behind her so that I can stare at her body without her judging eyes.
“Um…what?”
I grin. She can act like I don’t affect her at all, but it’s a lie.
“Nothing,” I say, happy not to talk about work right now. It will only make me angry, remembering exactly what she did to me. “You should probably start on the chicken if you want to eat tonight.”
She gives me a dirty look over her shoulder.
“Do you want some help?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“No.”
She takes the chicken and plops it into a grill pan before putting it on the stove and turning the stove on high.
She walks back over to her cutting board, and after pulling the brussels sprouts out, she cluelessly stares at them.
She takes her knife and chops down hard. The brussels sprout goes flying away from her.
I chuckle.
“I don’t like brussels sprouts anyway. Let’s just stick to everything else.”
I grin and nod while I resist helping her again.
She takes the potatoes, puts them into a pot, covers them with water, and then places it on the stove.
I snicker.
“What?”
“It’s going to take hours to boil the potatoes if you don’t cut them up first.”
“I knew that.”
She takes the pot back over to the counter. She pulls the soaking wet potatoes out of the pot and places one on the chopping board. She starts cutting and chops it into tiny pieces.
I shake my head. She’s one of the smartest, strongest women I’ve ever met. How does she not have a clue as to how to cook?
I walk behind her again, and she freezes, already anticipating my touch.
“Need some help?” I ask, keeping my distance.
“No,” she says stubbornly. She walks to the fridge, searching for something. When she finally finds what she has been looking for, she smiles and pulls it out. “Cheese makes everything better.”
I shake my head at her as she pulls out some shredded cheese and pops it into her mouth. She’s avoiding my touch, which just makes me want to touch her more.
I have a dairy intolerance, but I’ll deal with some stomach cramps in order to get what I want.
I walk over to her and reach into the bag she’s holding. I eat some of the cheese as she watches me with large eyes.
She tries to walk around me, but I make sure our hands brush against each other.
She goes back to the cutting board and starts angrily cutting the potatoes again.
“Ouch!” she yells.
I’m behind her in two seconds. My arms are around her body as I take her cut finger into my hands. She’s bleeding pretty badly. I pull her hand over to the sink where I turn on the faucet, running cold water, and I begin washing the wound, trying to get the bleeding to stop.
It takes a few minutes, but it finally stops. I turn the water off, and then I lean down and gently kiss her finger.
“All better. I should get a Band-Aid for that,” I say, trying to ignore her beating heart and how she looks at me like I just saved her life instead of just healing her finger that would have healed without my assistance.
I sweep past her, but she grabs on to my shirt, stopping me.
She narrows her gorgeous eyes at me as she peers into mine. I don’t know what she’s doing. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Her hand moves slowly up my body until it reaches my neck, and then she pulls my neck down until she cautiously kisses me on the lips.
My hands grab her face as I deepen the kiss. Her kisses say so much that I know she would never tell me with her words. They say, You were right. They say, I’m sorry. They say, Thank you.
She pulls away, realizing what she just did, as she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. She doesn’t say anything. She just stands there, looking at