That does it. Her eyes flip to mine. The browns melt with the golds, creating a caramellike hue that seems to be lit up from the inside.
“I need a place to stay,” I say matter-of-factly.
“I need my dignity back.”
“What? Are you talking about that ‘He’s so amazing’ thing back there? Because that was cute.”
She groans. “I’m not six. I don’t want to be cute.”
“Want me to say it was hot? I was trying not to make it awkward.”
She looks at me long enough to narrow her eyes. “I want to pretend like it didn’t happen.”
“Forgot about it already.”
She gathers the vegetables into a line down the center of the board. I swipe a couple more carrots. My stomach rumbles again, and I wonder what she’d do if I grabbed the board and ate everything she just prepared.
“So? Room?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“What’s there to not know? You’re running a business to presumably make money, and I’m offering legal tender for a service you provide.”
“Yeah, but the beauty of being a business owner is that I get to make the decisions. There’s a sign over the door that says that I reserve the right to refuse service.”
I take a slice of pepper as she swipes at my hand. “There is no such sign.”
“Well, there should be.” She takes the cutting board and sets it by the stove. “What are you doing in town, anyway? Most people can’t just up and leave their jobs to come help their grandparents.”
My stomach rumbles again, but this time it’s not from hunger.
I slide a barstool out from beneath the island and sit across from her. She fires me a disapproving look before turning back toward the stove. A pan of meat simmers away. It smells delicious, and I’m tempted to go poke around and see what I can find to eat, but I don’t.
“Well,” I say carefully. “Most people can’t get dramatically fired from their jobs like me.”
She looks at me over her shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No,” I say with a chuckle. “But because I don’t want you to think I somehow deserved it, I’ll add that the reason behind my termination was because my boss’s wife worked in the office and sent an email to her friend about how badly she wanted to bang me. Her husband found it, and I got whacked.”
“That’s not legal.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. “But what am I going to do? Fight for a job that just got super weird?”
As if she feels pity for me, Sophie slides a few pieces of sliced pepper my way.
“Besides,” I say, popping the pepper into my mouth with a nod of thanks, “everything happens for a reason.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do. I think.”
“What will you do now?”
That’s the million-dollar question.
I sit back in my chair and blow out a breath. “I’m not sure. I was in the running to get my dream job before Bang Gate.”
She laughs, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “That sounds like a porno.”
“What a dirty mind you have.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the stove, her body angled so she can keep an eye on me. The aroma from the pan billows through the room as she stirs whatever it is slowly.
“So are you out of contention now?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. I’m worried about it, to be honest.” I lean forward and rest my elbows against the counter. “They love stability and look for people that don’t hop around from job to job. Which makes sense. And now I’m basically a vagrant with a broken engagement.”
Her brows lift. “Broken engagement? Do tell.”
She takes a package out of the fridge and plops it into a bowl. I watch her work while I try to figure out what, and how much, to say. It doesn’t feel like it matters, and I’d rather talk about her.
“There’s not much to tell,” I say as she puts the bowl in the microwave. “Jessica and I parted ways after we realized that we’d only been together because it was easier than separating. No drama. No crazy story.”
She mulls this around, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear while she thinks.
I can’t help but appreciate her figure from this angle. Her curves are soft and round, narrowing at the tie from her apron at her waist. Her neck is exposed, thanks to her curls being swept up on top of her head, and I can see the little chocolate milk–like birthmark just below her hairline.
“Can you fix it?” she asks. “The stability problem?”
“Not unless you want to marry me.”
She laughs. “Um, the last time I married you, we were seven, and you took the Ring Pop off my left hand and ate it right after the ceremony.”
My chest vibrates with my laugh. “I’d forgotten about that.”