Page 30 of Should Have Been Me

I groaned with exasperation. “You’re the worst. You know that?”

“It’s good,” he finally said, putting me out of my misery with that barely-there curl of his mouth that was there and gone so fast I wasn’t sure it could even be classified as a smirk. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to how close to the vest Vaughn played his cards. It was intriguing and frustrating all at the same time. “If I haven’t said it already, thank you for cooking.”

“You haven’t, and you’re welcome. It really wasn’t any trouble.” That was a lie, of course. I’d spent the few hours before he arrived running around like a chicken with its head cut off, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’ve always enjoyed cooking for other people. It’s one of my love languages.”

He lifted his brows. “Love languages?”

I chewed the bite I’d just taken, looking at him curiously as I forced it down. “Yeah. You know, love languages?” He shook his head like he still didn’t understand. My chin jerked back in bewilderment. “You’ve seriously never heard of love languages?”

“Continuing to say it won’t suddenly make me understand,” he said with a bland look.

I rolled my eyes. “They’re basically how you express your love to people. I like showing them they’re important by feeding them, taking care of them.”

He sipped at his wine. “Ah.”

A beat of silence passed between us as I waited for more.

“What about you? What’s your love language?”

He crunched into the garlic bread and lifted his wide, rounded shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t think I have any. I don’t like people enough to have a language that conveys caring.”

I choked on the sip of wine I’d just taken. “You don’t like people?”

“Not particularly, no.” He said that with the same level of detachment a person might announce the weather. Like it was nothing at all. “Huh. Would you look at that? It’s raining outside.” The end.

“That’s—” I shook my head, trying to wrap my brain around that. “Vaughn, you can’t claim you don’t like people like that, like some blanket statement that encompasses everyone. I mean, there has to be at least a few people you like, right?”

He wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin I’d set out earlier—yes, I went so far as to pull out the fancy cloth napkins I never used because they were a pain in the ass to wash. “There are people I tolerate, but I’m a very busy man. Every day of my life is on a rigid schedule. Without it, things would fall into chaos. I’ve found most people tend to mess with that schedule or create chaos on their own for the hell of it, so I’ve chosen not to bother wasting my time.”

“But—what about your parents? Or your sister? I mean, they’re your blood. Wasn’t it basically engrained in you from birth to love them?”

He arched a brow and pointed the tines of his fork in my direction. “Ah, but you see, I never said anything about love. Love and like are two very different things. Of course I love my family. But Leighton is the perfect example of loving someone without liking them. I think she’s a self-centered, dramatic brat who cares too much for herself and not nearly enough for those around her. Those are qualities I don’t like one bit.”

“So what you’re basically saying is you’re only tolerating me?” I clarified, raising my brows in a silent challenge. I was silently daring him to say he didn’t like me while sitting in my home and eating the food I’d taken the time to buy and cook for him.

He paused mid-chew, as though the question actually threw him off. “I think... you may be the exception,” he said, wonder coating his words, like he only then realized he liked me. And why in the hell did I find that flattering? I should have been insulted, not experiencing a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my belly.

“Wow. Uh . . . thanks?”

“Believe me, I’m as surprised by that as you are,” he said grudgingly, and for some reason, the tone of his voice made my head fall back on a deep, muscle-clenching belly laugh.

I wiped at my cheeks with the backs of my hands once I finally managed to get ahold of myself, noticing that Vaughn was watching me with an intensity that made my heart flip-flop in my chest.

“You have a very nice laugh,” he stated plainly.

I poked at the inside of my cheek with my tongue to temper my smile. “Thank you. I guess it’s a good thing you like me since everyone in Pembrooke thinks we’re in a romantic relationship, huh?”

His eyes drilled into me like they were seeing deeper than anyone had ever bothered to look before. “I guess you’re right.”

I cleared my throat, looking down at my plate and using my fork to move things around as I tried to calm my rapidly fluttering pulse. There was something about this man I couldn’t put my finger on. He claimed not to like most people. He didn’t have the usual sense of humor. He seemed stiff and unflinchingly rigid. But my gut was telling me there was more to him. He claimed to be an asshole, and for all intents and purposes, he appeared to try and live up to that self-imposed reputation. However, I was beginning to think it was a mask he wore to keep people at a distance.

The truth was, I didn’t think he was nearly as rude and unfeeling as he led people to believe. “Speaking of which, if we’re going to make this work, we probably need to know about each other, don’t you think?”

He finished chewing his bite, sitting back in his chair and wiping his mouth before placing his napkin on the table beside his empty plate. After a sip of wine, he sat back in that man-spread that was even more potent thanks to the cuffed sleeves and exposed throat.

God, I really needed to get a grip.

“Sounds reasonable. What do you want to know?”

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