Page 38 of Never Let You Go

Although.

Damn I like when he looks at me like that.

He finally pushes himself from the door. Before leaving the kitchen, he adds, “I think his father got the message this time.”

“Good,” I say on an exhale.

I turn my attention back on the late lunch I fixed myself while Christopher was picking Skye up from school.

I was starving, my appetite left during the convo with Christopher, now I know Isaac is going to be okay thanks to my hot boss, my appetite is back.

The good news is, the fridge is stocked with cold cuts, cheeses, and soup, and I’m surrounded by the best bread in the world.

Being hungry around here is a good problem to have.

I’m finally sitting down, a sandwich between my fingers, and damn.

That bread is good.

So good I tear a piece from the sandwich to savor it alone.

So good I close my eyes and moan.

Pure.

Pleasure.

The scraping of a chair on the floor pulls me from my moment. I keep my eyes closed and swallow, then open one eyelid to see who’s interrupting my break.

Christopher.

I sit up.

“Did I wake you.” His eyes lift from my throat and glide over my lips.

“God, this bread is sinfully good.”

He smirks.

I take a huge bite from my sandwich and feel my cheek bump to the side. I can’t be acting cute around my boss. I’m starving, and I’m focusing on the task at hand: getting through this apprenticeship, passing the exam. My earlier bodily reaction to his presence can’t repeat itself on a loop.

“What’s your favorite bread,” he asks.

I point to the baguette and take another bite.

“Apart from that.”

I shrug.

“What’s that mean.”

“I try to stay away from bread.”

He quirks an eyebrow. That’s his way of asking a question. I think.

“You know. Weight and all that,” I say as a manner of explanation.

He grunts. He stands, disappears into the bakehouse, and reappears minutes later, carrying a wooden tray with an assortment of breads.

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