Page 35 of By His Side

“No?”

“I figure it can wait till the weekend.”

I turned my back so he couldn’t see me smile, worried I’d look smug. It was Tuesday. Waiting until the weekend gave me three more days—and nights—with Darien. And it was the nights I intended to make the most of.

“Can you cook?”

It was a valid question, and one which reminded me to check the array of pans I had on the stove. “I like to think so. I used to do it a lot. Before…” I tamped down on a memory I didn’t want to have of Julian showing his disapproval whenever something didn’t meet his exacting standards with his fists. It had led to me not bothering anymore and deciding that if I was going to face his wrath, anyway, I may as well skip the part where I slaved over a hot stove for hours and get straight to the violence.

“Where did you go?”

I spun around to face Darien. “What?”

“You disappeared there for a moment.”

The memories had stolen my enthusiasm for the meal. I’d once thought I could impress Julian with my culinary skill, and the opposite had happened. Now, here I was, older, but apparently no wiser, trying to impress another man. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t have bothered.” I grabbed a pan, intending on flinging its contents into the bin, and then doing the same with the rest. The stupid centerpiece could go in there too, and then perhaps I could set fire to the tablecloth.

I only got one step away from the stove before a hand grabbed my wrist, Darien having risen from the table without me noticing. He guided my hand back to the stove, holding it there until I gave in and let go of the pan. “Hey! It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all. Do you know what I had for lunch?” He provided the answer himself. “An out-of-date salad.”

“Why did you eat it if it was out of date?”

Darien’s lips twitched. “Well, obviously I didn’t realize it was out of date until after I’d eaten it, or I might have thought better of it.” He leaned in to look at the pans, his arm warm against mine. “My point was that after limp lettuce and sad-looking cucumber, I’m extremely grateful for someone cooking for me and nothing you could produce could be any worse. And if you throw it in the bin, I’ll probably go after it. And then I’ll have eaten out-of-date salad and food out of the bin on the same day.”

“That’s a very sad picture you’re painting.”

“Isn’t it?” He retreated to the table. “What are you cooking, anyway?”

“Orechiette with white beans, tuna, and radicchio.”

Darien blinked. “You sound like my brother.” He laughed, and I waited for him to share the joke. “Which is funny because when you first got out of prison, I imagined a scenario where you’d come before Levi and I’d talked him into employing you at the restaurant. I thought it was a ridiculous thought and that you’d have killed each other. Now…” He waved a hand at the pans. “He’d probably have thought all his Christmases had come at once.”

“You haven’t tasted it yet.”

“No, but I can smell it.”

I went back to my stirring, more determined than ever that this meal would taste good. And resolving that Julian and the doubts he’d once put in my head had no place in Darien’s kitchen. “Who’s Levi?”

“Levi was a client of mine. I talked my brother into doing me a favor and employing him. Unbeknownst to me, they started a torrid affair, and to cut a long story short, he’ll be my brother-in-law before the end of the year.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Which part?”

“An ex-client marrying your brother?”

“No. It doesn’t bother me at all. Levi was always a victim of circumstance.”

I tipped the cooked pasta into the rest of the ingredients. “What was he inside for?”

“Stealing pretty much anything that had wheels.”

“How long was his sentence?”

“Two years. He won’t be going back.”

“Neither will I.” The words were out before I could stop them.

I stopped regretting them when it made Darien smile. “Good. I like to keep my success rate up.” He inclined his head toward the pans. “Have I got ten minutes to get changed without your food being ruined?”

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