Page 21 of The Grump

“The one Isabeau makes,” I replied without hesitation. “She’s got a special recipe, and I’ve yet to eat one that’s better.”

“She did actually offer to bring me some jambalaya once. I turned it down, figuring it’s too much work. But if she offers, again, I’ll take her up on it.”

“Trust me, it’s very good.”

She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

She ate so quickly, it made me think she might have skipped lunch.

“Bailey,” I said carefully, “when are these boxes you’re working on due?”

“Tomorrow,” she answered before shoveling in another mouthful.

“Fucking hell. That’s going to take a lot of work before you’re done.”

She nodded. “I know. Which is why I’m happy that you brought jambalaya and livened up this evening a bit.”

“I’m starting to get compliments?” I remarked. “That means we’re making progress.”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as if considering her next words. “I’m still on the fence about that. Let’s see how the rest of the dinner goes. So far, you showed up in a relatively good mood and with my favorite food. You’re off to a very good start.”

I started to laugh. My entire body relaxed in her presence, which was something I wasn’t used to. When it came to business, I always had my guard up. My mind was on numbers and strategies; I didn’t laugh or joke around. It was my MO.

But this wasn’t about business anymore. I had to be honest with myself—it was about Bailey.

“I have a proposition,” I said as we were both on the last few spoonfuls of jambalaya. “I’ll stay and help.”

She frowned. “Help with what? It’s just two dishes. I can put them in the dishwasher.”

“With the boxes and the pralines.”

She looked at me incredulously and then waved her hand. “It’s fine. I’m good on my own.”

“Bailey, you’re going to get tired, you know that. How many boxes do you have to fill?”

She averted her gaze. “Quite a few.”

“And you’ve got another batch that needs to be baked. And you have to wait for it to cool off too. I saw the batter, so you can’t deny it.”

She’d opened her mouth as I was speaking, likely to do just that, but then closed it and just nodded.

“We’ll be faster between the two of us,” I encouraged. There was something drawing me to her, and I wanted to spend a bit of time in her presence to see what it was. Maybe as we got to working, I’d realize it was nothing—but I doubted it.

She narrowed her eyes again, and I knew I was about to get some more attitude. I fucking loved it. I could do this with her all night. Actually, I could do so much more than that. Her mouth was—

No, I wasnotgoing to start obsessing over it again.

“Really? You’ve got experience baking pralines?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted. “But I’m good at following instructions.”

Now she was the one who started to laugh. She moved her legs under the table, and they crashed into mine.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said between guffaws.

“Don’t worry about it.”

That slight touch only prompted me to want more. I almost reached for her over the table, but to what end? I truly wasn’t myself when I was around Bailey. I was the stick-in-the-mud brother—I owned up to that with no shame. I was focused on numbers and was cutthroat when it came to business. My feelings were secondary and had been suppressed for so long, I wondered if they might be dead. But right now, trying to keep my guard up around this woman was exhausting.

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