Page 28 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

She turns slowly.Those are clearly the wrong words.

Her eyes narrow to dangerous little slits.“Do I?”

I replay the sentence and immediately see the landmine.Mrs.Bell’s advice returns to me.Offer it in a way that lets her insult you first.

“I mean,” I correct, “I’m tall, mildly competent, and already covered in emotional damage.You could use me for labor and mock me while doing it.”

She studies me and the spatula lowers slightly.“That is better.”

“I’m learning.”

“Slowly.”

“Still counts.”

She looks at the trays, then at the clock, then at me.I can see the battle on her face.Pride versus exhaustion.Independence versus practicality.Wanting to say no because yes feels like admitting something.

Finally, she points to the sink.“Wash your hands.”

My wolf sits back smugly, and I mentally tell him not to get excited.He ignores me.

I wash my hands.The simple act of being in her kitchen after hours feels intimate in a way I don’t know how to handle.This is not like repairing a gate or fixing a roof.This is her territory.Her den.Her safe place.

And she lets me inside.

Holly hands me a piping bag, and I stare at it while she stares at me.“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Pipe frosting.”

“On purpose?”

“No, Daniel.As a cry for help.”

“I fix things.I don’t decorate them.”

“Then consider these cupcakes broken.”

I look down at the tray.Tiny golden cakes stare back at me, innocent and doomed.

“You trust me with this?”

“Not even a little.”She grabs another piping bag and demonstrates, her hands sure and quick as she twists a perfect swirl of pink frosting onto the first cupcake.“Like this.”

I watch her hands.Her fingers are small, capable, and dusted with flour.She moves with confidence in this space, every gesture practiced and precise.Something is mesmerizing about it, intimate.

She glances at me.“The cupcake, Daniel.Watch the cupcake.”

“I was.”

“You were watching my hands.”

“They were holding the cupcake tool.”

“The cupcake tool?”she asks with laughter in her voice.

“I don’t know its name.”

“Piping bag.”