“What did the doctor say?”

“He said it was a . . .” I hesitated, deciding to bend the truth. “He said that I needed to keep off my foot for at least a few . . . weeks. Maybe.” The nurse who’d been preparing my discharge paperwork gave me a look from behind Reed’s shoulders. She knew I was bullshitting but didn’t ruin it for me.

It was an impulsive decision to stretch the truth. I felt bad for lying about the time frame of my expected recovery, but I was able to justify it in my head because it was helping me get closer to Reed. I loved the attention I was getting from him and just wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Shit. Okay,” he said, rubbing his chin. “What can I do to help you?”

“You can drive me to my apartment.”

“Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”Reed looked around as we entered my place down in Soho. “This is nice. Very . . . homey.”

“The décor is shabby chic. Glad you like it.”

I didn’t believe him. My taste was subtle and feminine and so not Reed Eastwood. Although I’d never seen the inside of his place, I had my ideas about what it looked like: dark, sleek, and modern.

Even though my apartment was in the city, the décor was more country with light and airy colors. I had floral linen slipcovers on the sofas and matching custom draperies.

Reed seemed to be hesitant to make his way fully into my living room. He stopped a few feet short of the door.

“You can take as much time off work as you need,” he said.

“Thank you. But I still plan to make it in to work. I can just stay off my foot. I may need a ride into the office, though.”

“I can arrange that.” He slipped his hands into his pockets as he continued standing close to the entrance. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes. Very.”

“I can pick up some dinner and bring it back for you.”

“Will you stay and eat with me?”

“You need me to stay?”

“I feel like I do, yes. I don’t really feel like being alone.”

He looked pensive, then sighed. “Then I’ll stay for a little while.”

Letting out a breath, I said, “Thank you.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything is fine.”

“That’s not very helpful, Charlotte.”

“Just get what you like.”

Reed seemed frustrated with me and suddenly made his way toward my kitchen, which overlooked the living room.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Going to see what you have in your kitchen.”

Reed was rummaging through my cabinets. This felt surreal.

Reed is in my kitchen!

He took out angel hair pasta, a large can of peeled tomatoes, spices, and a jar of kalamata olives.

He looked behind his shoulder at me. “Do you have fresh garlic?”

“Yes. I keep it under the sink.”

“Red wine?”

“On the wine rack in the corner.”

“Okay, I can work with this.”

My eyes widened. “You’re really gonna cook?”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t see you as the cooking kind.”

“I didn’t see you as a rock climber.”

“Apparently I’m not a very good one.”

“You were doing fine . . . until you weren’t.” He looked back at me, flashed a rare yet genuine smile, then said, “I cook for myself quite a bit.”

“I’m impressed.”

“When I get home at night, I often don’t feel like going out again, so I’ve taught myself to cook. I enjoy it sometimes.”

I lay on the couch in my absolute glory, watching him move as he chopped with his sleeves rolled up. Every movement of his body was a delight for my eyes as he drizzled olive oil, stirred, and tossed the pasta in a pan. The robust aroma smelled so good, better than anything I’d ever smelled before in my kitchen. He’d cracked the window open, letting in a delicate, nighttime breeze. A twinge of sadness hit me. I’d truly missed having a man around, even though I’d certainly never had one who cooked for me. Todd would have just ordered takeout. Unlike my ex, Reed wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves, get his hands dirty. I was loving that about him.

I could see that he was plating two servings. “Should I come to the table?”

“No. Stay where you are. I’ll bring it to you.”

This night just kept getting better. Reed placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table and handed me my plate.

“This looks amazing. What is it?”

“My take on spicy pasta puttanesca. Hope you can handle a little heat.”

“I can handle more than a little.”

Reed cracked another smile. He was definitely loosening up.

“I should injure myself more often if it means getting this kind of treatment.” I winked.

He sat on the chair across from me. “I do feel partially responsible for your mishap, so I’m happy to do it.”

“You merely said my name. I was the one who freaked out seeing you there.”

Tags: Penelope Ward, Vi Keeland Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net