Page 13 of Entangled
“My mother’s recipe,” I announce, warmed by his praise.
“She must be a good cook.”
“Was. She died fifteen years ago. I still use her recipes daily as a way to keep her memory alive.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It’s fine. I’m good.” I shrug and force a smile. In reality, it will never be fine. I will never be good, but I haven’t cried in six months. Not for a lack of sadness though. There simply aren’t any tears left after I cried enough to fill all seven oceans. But he doesn’t need to know all that. “Today, I made cornbread muffins to go with a batch of chili. Have dinner with me.”
His eyes dart to the pot on my stove. “Thank you, but I should get going.”
“You just said you were hungry.” His stomach growls in agreement—loud enough that he can’t pretend I didn’t hear it—so I seize the opportunity to use my powers of persuasion. “I’ll have you know I make the best chili in Tennessee.”
His lips twitch at the corners. “Bold statement.”
“Well, it’s true. According to my father, that is.” My statement earns me a real smile and God does it make him even more breathtaking. “Dad’s the best food critic out there.”
“And he’s not biased?”
“Nope. He’s the most impartial guy on the planet. You’ve got to be when you build an empire dealing with other people’s money. Anyway, he taught me not to waste food, and there’s no way I can eat all that.” I point to the stove with a smile. “So, given the principles by which I was raised, it only makes sense for you to join me for dinner, Flynn.”
He meets my gaze. “My name’s Henry.”
“Oh.” I touch the embroidery on his jacket. “Then this is false advertising.”
Henry actually chuckles, and the deep rumble does something to my insides. “Not exactly. Flynn is my last name.”
“Thank you for enlightening me, Henry Flynn.” I peer up at him as the air in the room rises a few degrees with our proximity. “Since our first meeting was…um…a bit unconventional, I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself properly. I’m Rowan-Anastasia, but everyone calls me Rowan.”
“Nice to meet you, Rowan. Listen, I should really get going—”
“There’s homemade banana pudding for dessert.” I gesture to his tablet. “And you can’t leave because I haven’t signed for my package yet.”
“Oh, right. I almost forgot.” He reaches for the device and wakes the screen before holding it out to me.
“Nope. I’m still not gonna sign.”
“Seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack.” Remembering what happened to Tony, I cringe. “Shit. That waswaytoo soon. Forget I said that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and offer a silent prayer for Tony’s speedy recovery. “Sorry. Sometimes I vomit words out before thinking them over.”
He shrugs. “It happens.”
“Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I’m serious about not signing.But…I will gladly change my mind if you stay for dinner.” I bat my eyelashes for good measure.
“Are you trying to hold me hostage? Because this feels like a hostage situation.” His smirk tells me he knows I’m not the type to slice and dice him, then sell his body parts.
“Yes, it most definitely is. I mean, it only seems right after yesterday’s home invasion. Tit for tat, you know?”
His rich laughter fills my kitchen. “You’re a piece of work.”
“Been told that before.”
Henry eyes me. “Listen, I really appreciate the offer—and your chili smells amazing—but I don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate you having dinner with me.”
“Good thing I don’t have a boyfriend.” I pinch his cheek then point to the sink. “Now, wash your hands, and go sit down like a good boy.”
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