Runaway Wolfes of Manhattan Three - Helen Hardt Page 0,3
doorknob and opening the door.
Then my heart started racing once more.
He was still there, standing in my kitchen—well, technically it was his kitchen—and peeling potatoes over the sink.
“Hey,” he said.
“I didn’t know you’d still be here.”
“Yep, still here. The garbage disposal is a little finicky, so I wanted to show you how to use the plunger to unclog it if you need to.”
“I think I can figure out how to use a plunger.”
He didn’t have to know I’d never used a plunger in my life. I wasn’t even sure what a plunger looked like. The Wolfes had people to do those kinds of things.
“I’m sure you can. I’m sure you’re quite capable of anything you put your mind to, honey. But like I said, the disposal is finicky, and there’s a certain knack to it.”
Honey. That was the second time he’d use the endearment. It warmed me all over, as if warm honey itself were coating me.
“Last time I checked, I’m not your honey.”
“Nothing personal. I call everyone honey. But if it bothers you, Riley, I’ll stop.”
It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I love it. It makes me want to melt into your arms and—
“It bothers me,” I said flatly.
If there was one thing my father taught me, it was how to lie convincingly.
The perpetual smile that had been on Matteo’s face since he arrived disappeared. “No problem.”
I hadn’t expected to feel any remorse. I turned my feelings off long ago for my own sanity. But sadness and sorrow slid through me. I’d hurt this man’s feelings.
I hadn’t meant to. Honestly, I rarely considered feelings, since I didn’t have any myself. On top of that, I lied. I liked him calling me honey.
I liked it a lot.
And that freaked me out more than a little.
“Potato peelings are the worst,” he said. “That’s why I’m using them to show you this. Plus, then you’ll have some potatoes to make for dinner tonight.”
“I don’t eat potatoes,” I said, again flatly.
“Okay… Then I’ll have some potatoes for my dinner tonight.”
I was being so damned rude. I couldn’t help it, and I hated myself for it. I liked this man. I was attracted to this man.
I’d come here to disappear. To be alone. Matteo Rossi made me want to not be alone.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I could say so many things.
It’s not that I don’t like potatoes, but they’re so starchy that I never eat them.
But then he would ask why, and I would have to tell him I was a model on a strict diet.
I’m allergic to potatoes.
Yeah, he’d believe that. I was a very convincing liar. But I’d never heard of anyone having a potato allergy before. Peanut butter? Strawberries? Mushrooms? Yeah, but never potatoes.
I was attacked by a potato as a young girl.
Right. I was a convincing liar, but that was just too much.
“Thank you for bringing me the supplies.”
“I guess I’ll just take the potatoes home with me,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said. “This is my vacation. I think I’ll throw caution to the wind and eat a potato.”
His lips quivered. Just a touch, but I noticed. He wanted to smile. And the fact that I had made him want to smile made me very happy. Very happy indeed.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I know you want to.”
“Want to what?”
“Smile.”
That split his face into a wide grin. “Thank you. I’d say the same, but I haven’t actually seen you smile.”
Oh, boy. That was harsh. Problem was that it was also correct. Right on the money.
I wasn’t a big smiler. Not a lot to smile about in my world, and of course, on the runway, we models were supposed to have that sullen look that top fashion designers found alluring.
Personally, I thought we all looked mad as hell.
Right now, though, I was so tempted to smile. The muscles in my cheeks itched to slide upward.
“Come on, Riley. You can do it.”
My God, he had a sexy voice. Low and husky and smooth as silk.
So I did what he asked. I met his ice-blue gaze, and I smiled.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
How exactly was I supposed to answer that? It was a yes or no question. If I answered yes, I’d look like a hard-ass who never cracked a smile. If I answered no, I’d look like a silly little flirt.
I took the third option. I didn’t reply at all.
Matteo shook his head with a sigh. “You are a tough nut to crack, Riley Mansfield.”