socks that had pineapples on them. His hair was wet, and I almost fell out of my chair.
This was not any better.
“I’m going to make some wild rice–crusted halibut,” he said. “I was up for a role as a chef a few years ago and had zero kitchen skills, so I hired a professional to teach me. I didn’t get the role, but I did learn my way around a kitchen. Do you want some?”
Wild rice–crusted halibut? Professional chef? Classes? Was he serious with this? “Sure.”
For a second I thought he might confess to joking around, but he got out a skillet and started gathering up ingredients.
Gah, now he was going to cook, too? I wasn’t going to survive the night.
I was the one who said just friends. That was definitely how it needed to be. Why was this so hard? Why was he so hot? It wasn’t fair.
I needed to talk. Something to distract me from this visual. “So where have you been?”
“The children’s hospital. I went to visit them as Malec.”
I blinked slowly in surprise. I’d never once heard of him doing something like that. “Do you do it a lot?”
“Every chance I get. What, you think it’s normal for me to run around in my Malec costume?”
“I don’t know your life,” I said, eating some more cereal and trying to ignore the way my heart was softening at the idea of him dressing up to entertain sick kids. Serious swoonage. That giddy feeling was being balanced out by the guilt I was feeling about being angry with him for not being home on time when he was busy lifting children’s spirits. I was the worst.
He started cooking dry rice on the stove. “The kids love it, and normally it’s a fun time for everyone.”
“You don’t sound like you had fun.”
“One of the kids, Joey, he’s always the most excited to see me. But the doctors told me the next time I come, he won’t be there. I asked if it was a matter of money, because I’d take care of it, and they said it wasn’t. There’s nothing anyone can do. Cancer pisses me off.”
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“Thanks. So I was already in a bad mood when I left the hospital, and on the way out one of the board members chased me down and offered me ten thousand dollars for my charity if I’d take a picture with his wife in my costume. I said no.”
I spilled a couple of chocolate cereal balls on the table and grabbed them before Magnus could go after them. “You have a charity?”
“I started it when I got back from Afghanistan. A buddy of mine was medically discharged at the same time as me and he had a hard time finding a job and taking care of his wife and new baby. I forced him to take money from me to help him out, but I thought there should be something to help veterans start over that didn’t have a ton of red tape and oversight. So I have this nonprofit, and it provides career training and scholarships and has an emergency component for veterans and their families who need money and food to tide them over temporarily.”
My mouth dropped. How did I not know any of this? “And somebody would have given you money for that and all you had to do was take a picture?” Was I missing something?
Now he was using a spatula to transfer the rice to some paper towels. “That’s not the point. I want people to donate because they want to help veterans. Not because of Duel of the Fae. It makes me uncomfortable, and it feels like they’re missing the entire point.”
“No offense, but that’s kind of stupid. There are so many great charities out there and good causes to support. Probably nine times out of ten if someone supports yours, it will be because you’re the head of it. I can’t really see where that’s a bad thing. And if you’re uncomfortable, well, maybe find a way to get comfortable with it. Are you in a position to be turning money away because it’s not coming in the way you want it to?”
He seemed to consider this. “I guess not. Maybe you’re right.”
“I typically am.”
“You’re going to ruin your appetite,” he said, watching me eat more cereal.
“Not likely,” I responded. “By the way, Karen from Regional Advantage Bank says hi.”
He was pouring the cooked rice into an expensive-looking blender. “Who?”