Page 74 of Resisting the Grump

She strutted towards me, and relief relaxed my chest. “Whatever you have to say, I hope it’s not as annoying as the puzzle box.” Her eyes fell down the buttons of my shirt to the saucer in my hand, which held an overturned teacup.

“Thanks for meeting me halfway,” I said.

“Is that what this was about?”

“That, and I didn’t want you to slam the door in my face again.”

“I figured.”

I clenched my jaw and inhaled, doing my best to remain optimistic. After all, the fact that she showed up should give me hope.

“What do you have there?” she asked, staring down at the dish in my hand.

“It’s an amuse-bouche.”

Her long lashes batted towards it.

“I’m no good with pie, you see.”

She raised her eyes to mine. “I don’t want anything from you except an explanation.” Her stomach growled.

“You were planning to discuss our future on an empty stomach?”

“I didn’t think it would take long.”

I lifted the teacup off the saucer, revealing the perfect bite I’d made for her. It only took six tries to get the plating right, but it was worth it.

“What is it?”

“Whipped goat cheese on a Triscuit drizzled with a beetroot reduction.”

“A Triscuit?”

I extended the plate in her direction. She inspected the offering before popping it in her mouth.

Her eyes flashed with an excitement she suppressed quickly.

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

She licked her lips. “Moreish.”

I smiled. “Funny you mention that. I actually have a few more if you want to come over for a neighborly chat.”

“I wore my most uncomfortable shoes, so I can’t go far.”

“Think you can muster a few more meters?” I asked, extending a palm towards my door. “Simba would love to meet you.”

Her eyes were dark, hardened marbles, but I could tell her restraint was taking a lot of energy. “I suppose a neighborly chat wouldn’t hurt anything,” she said, stretching out the words.

I led the way, slipping in before her to make sure Simba didn’t complicate an already complicated situation by trying to make a run for it.

She took a deep breath when she stepped inside, her eyes darting around the place. “What’s that smell?”

“I’m making dinner.”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

I feigned a scowl. “Of course I can cook,” I said. “I grew up in a kitchen. That’s why I’m a credible food critic.”

---