Page 57 of Only With You

Stepping back, I clear my throat and grab a clean knife from a drawer. “I’ll help you cut the vegetables.”

We stand side by side, while I work on cutting the zucchini, bell peppers, and onions as she checks the rice then seasons the chicken.

“I really don’t need your help. I know how to cook.”

“I’m sure you’re competent enough in the kitchen, but I’m not going to sit and watch.” I may not care for her, but I don’t like doing nothing.

“Worried I’ll poison you?” she playfully asks, once again throwing me off.

“No, I’m worried you’ll spit on my food.”

“You’re more worried about my spit than poison?” She glances up at the same time I look down at her. “Seems like you need to get your priorities in check.”

A thrill rushes through my veins, and depraved images run through my head.

Jesus Christ, get yourself under control.

“Trust me, they are.” I focus on my task while she adds oil to a pan.

She softly chuckles. “If you say so.”

We work in silence and thank God, because my mind is rioting with colours and images of the blonde not too far from me.

I force the thoughts away and hand her the vegetables.

“So, where did you learn how to manoeuvre the knife like that?” I ask to push the awkward tension filling the tiny space.

“Don’t judge me.” She shoots me a warning look.

“Oh, never,” I sarcastically say, but tone it down at the roll in her eyes. “I’m not. I promise.”

She tentatively looks at me. “I saw a movie and thought it was cool. So I taught myself. I don’t want to hear how unimpressive that is. Let me live in ignorant bliss.”

I’d tell her that I was more impressed than concerned for my life because who the hell knows how to do that? I surely don’t. But I hold back and let her believe I’m underwhelmed by her hidden talent.

We’re being tooniceto each other. She knows it, I know it, and it’s getting weird.

17

JULIANNA

“I must admit, I’m impressed.”

Setting my laptop on the dining table, my gaze flicks to Landon, sitting on the chair next to me. “I told you I’m a great cook.”

“Subparcook, but I meant I’m impressed you know how to use more than salt and pepper. Good for you.”

I could be mad, but I’m just shocked it took him this long to say something stupid. After he asked me about the knife, we didn’t say much to each other. We cooked and ate in silence.

I’m surprised we managed to go almost thirty minutes without arguing. That’s new and extremely shocking, but I’m not complaining. It was fun while it lasted.

Setting my bag on the floor, I take a seat. “You really just have a knack for being an asshole, don’t you? The least you could do is say thank you. After all, I could’ve undercooked your chicken, but I didn’t. So you’re welcome.”

It might’ve crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to cross-contaminate.

“It’s a talent I do my best to uphold.” Humor laces his voice. “And I’m not going to thank you for doing something you should do regardless.”

“Aren’t you funny.”

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