Page 45 of Serving the Maestro

“Oh.” It was almost too soft to hear. “I guess we aren’t going out.”

“I already told you about the situation with clubs here, Avery.” Grabbing another carrot, I started to chop. “Things on the east coast aren’t as laid back as in California. Since I’ve only got a little more time here, I’m not interested in the hassle of a background check and shit that comes with joining a private club.”

“Awww...”

I didn’t look. If I did, I’d see her playful pout. It hadn’t ever annoyed me before, but I was annoyed now, and I hadn’t even looked at her. “I’ve also got a major headache. If I don’t eat something soon, it’ll get worse.”

“Okay. I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling great,” she said, tone apologetic.

I glanced at her and managed a smile.

She’d pulled on the slinky black dress, connected in the front and back only by chains on the side. It fell a few inches below her butt, leaving long, curvy legs bare.

She looked beautiful and sexy, and I had absolutely no desire to touch her.

Focusing back on the food, I pushed the sautéing vegetables around.

“Maybe after we eat, I could give you a massage.”

She came up behind me and slid her arms around my waist, but I caught one wrist with my free hand. “Cooking, Avery. Hot oil hurts like hell if it splatters on you.”

She stiffened and jerked back. “Sorry.”

The tight tone told me I’d pissed her off, possibly hurt her.

Setting my jaw, I forced myself to take a deep breath.

“I’m going to go watch TV,” she said before I’d managed to get a grip on my short temper.

I didn’t respond.

Not even when she lingered by the door.

Once she was out of the kitchen, I grabbed the scotch I’d poured earlier and tossed it back.

While we ate, we were going to have a talk. We should have done it yesterday when she arrived, but I sure as hell wasn’t putting it off any longer.

* * *

Avery didn’t come into the kitchen to join me.

I never did hear the TV come on but hadn’t been in the mood to check, nor had I felt like looking for her when she didn’t respond after I first called her name.

By the time I’d finished my food and cleaned up, then put her plate in the fridge, it had been almost an hour since she’d walked away in a sulk. Hopefully, enough time for her to cool off, but if not, too bad. We were having that talk.

The late evening sun shone in the partially opened slats covering the window in the master bedroom, allowing more than enough light to see that she wasn’t in there. A thin beam of light fell through the partially opened bathroom door, and I caught a familiar scent as I moved closer.

“Trent?”

Nudging the door open, I met her eyes.

Steam drifted up from the steaming hot bath, the water tinted a soft peach by one of the bath bombs she loved so much. That was the scent I’d detected. Leaning against the door frame, I kept my eyes on her face, well aware that she had adjusted her position, so her excellent breasts barely broke the deep water.

“Want to join me?” she asked.

“Perfect peach bubbles don’t work for me as well as for you, Avery.”

“We can always shower it off.” Her lips curved, still stained with the wine-red lipstick she’d had on earlier. “We’ve done that before.”

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