“Are you coming to eat your dinner?” he called. “Or should I come join you in the bedroom?”
“No!” Kirsty squealed. “I mean, I’ll be there in a second.”
He saw her mother point to Kirsty’s living room as she obviously ordered her daughter to get back in and deal with her guest. A few seconds later, Kirsty appeared. Lake wiped his face of all emotion, tried not to think about how funny this was and smiled at Kirsty.
“What were you doing in there, anyway?”
Panic flashed in her eyes. She hadn’t even prepared a story to excuse her disappearance.
“Folding laundry,” she said at last. “I can’t get it out of my head if it sits there, and I want to concentrate on you.”
She sat down elegantly at the table.
“You ate my steak,” she said incredulously.
“I thought it was going to waste. Cold steak isn’t as good. Plus, men like steak. Right?”
She scowled at him. It was cute. She put her phone on the table beside her and played around with her mashed potato and green beans. Lake waited her out. He definitely wasn’t going to make things easy for her.
The phone buzzed.
“Excuse me,” she said. “This could be important.”
She read the text, her lips practically moving along with the words. Then she glanced from the screen to Lake. Whatever it was, he was about to be distracted again. Excellent. She put the phone down and stood up. She began gathering dishes that were still half full of food.
“Come on, we’re going to the kitchen to get pudding. You’re helping.”
Lake picked up what he could and did as he was told. The kitchen was conveniently located at the back of the flat—well away from the windows that overlooked the street and his shop. As Kirsty put the dishes on the sink, her phone buzzed again. She read the message and looked at him nervously. He wondered if she even knew that she bit her bottom lip every time something worried her.
“I’ll wait in the living room,” he said to wind her up.
“No!” She opened the freezer and yanked out a tub of ice cream. “You take this. I’ll get the bowls.”
He was momentarily distracted when she bent over to retrieve two bowls from the cupboard under the counter. The silky smooth material of her dress hugged every delightful curve and made his mouth water at the sight. Without thinking, Lake took a step towards her, still holding the tub of ice cream. There was a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. Oh, hell. He hung his head. The Stooges were trashing his place. Kirsty jerked upwards, stepped back and slammed into Lake, sending the ice cream flying to the floor. The mess made a vanilla puddle at their feet.
“Can this evening get any worse?” Kirsty wailed as she reached for a cloth.
Lake took pity on her. Clearly she wasn’t cut out for this level of stress.
“Here, let me help,” he said as he crouched beside her.
He reached for the cupboard under the sink, the place people usually kept all their cleaning stuff.
“Don’t open that,” Kirsty screeched beside him.
It was too late.
As Lake read the lists written on the inside of Kirsty’s cupboard doors, he grinned even wider. This evening was just getting better and better.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kirsty hung her head and counted to ten. It didn’t help. There was humiliation and then there was this.
“Things that make me anxious,” Lake read aloud.
“That’s private,” Kirsty told him, but she knew it wouldn’t make any difference.
“Lack of money. Lake. Lingerie war. Lake’s steroid-induced muscles. Marketing.” Lake read the list with a grin in his voice, while Kirsty closed her eyes and pretended the evening was a figment of her imagination.