Page 9 of Making Their Vows
I take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him. “Can I help?” I ask.
“If I recall correctly, you’re a terrible cook.” Sometimes that good memory works in my favor, but in this instance not so much.
“Hey, that’s not my fault.” I didn’t get to use the kitchen much. My parents always had a chef, and at college I ate in the Student Hall.
“You don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.” He sets a plate down in front of me.
“I might as well learn.” What else am I going to do? I should keep trying to find a job. “Not much else for me to do.” Blake fills up my wine glass again.
“You’re not a prisoner. You are free to come and go as long as you use the driver.”
“Babysitter,” I correct.
“I’m a very wealthy man, and we both come from known families. Don’t fight me on this.”
“Got it.” I pick up my wine and take a giant sip. He lifts a brow. “Going to police my wine now too?” He shakes his head, making a plate for himself before sitting down next to me.
"I don't want to be fighting with you all the time, Truly."
"I don't either."
"Can we call a truce for now?"
"You blackmailed me into staying your wife for the next year," I remind him. Now he wants to call a truce after getting his way.
"We can spend the next year fighting over that, or we can try and move past it."
I glare at him, taking another sip of my wine.
"That's fine." I take a breath, trying to keep my hurt from showing. I don't want him to know how much he can affect my emotions.
"Good, now eat."
"So are you like my boss now? Just going to be ordering me around?" I roll my eyes but pick up my fork to try a bite.
“If I could simply order you around, things would be a lot different.”
“What does that mean?”
He only shakes his head at my question. “Eat.”
I shove the bite into my mouth because I am starving, not because he ordered me to. A small moan leaves me. He’s a freaking talented cook too. I see Blake’s jaw harden.
“What did I do now? You told me to eat, and I did.” He doesn’t answer me, taking a few bites of his own food.
“Do your parents know you’re back?”
“I didn’t tell them. If you haven’t noticed, we’re not tight.”
“Tight.” Another shake of his head.
“Your headshakes are starting to get annoying,” I tell him. My cheeks are suddenly feeling warm. Exactly how much of that wine have I had?
"I'll try to control them."
"Don't be a smart-ass." The words slip right past my lips.
He cocks his head toward me and smirks. "I wasn't trying to be. This is challenging." He goes back to eating, and I do the same. His words are bouncing around inside my head. "Do you want more?" he asks when my plate is cleared.
