Page 136 of The Re-Proposal

If it wasn’t for that jerk who cursed him out, I wouldn’t have intervened. Maybe giving him those power tools and dragging him into the fray was irresponsible.

The sound of his wheelchair gets louder. Although he sees me, he doesn’t say anything and just heads to the fridge.

I can’t blame the kid for ignoring me. I practically told him to by ignoring him first.

Rubbing my forehead, I motion to Joel. “Morning.”

He comes to an abrupt halt and stares at me like I’m an alien. Maybe I am for breaking our unspoken ‘rules ofnoengagement’ pact.

“About last night, let’s keep all that manual labor you did a secret from your nurse.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I resist the urge to flip him off.

Choosing to be an adult, I grumble, “If you want something other than cereal, I was about to make breakfast.”

It’s better to keep my hands busy. That way I won’t be as tempted to go after Hatchen.

“Sure. Whatever.” Joel turns back.

“Where are you going?”

He stops and looks at me.

I toss him an apron. “You’re on food prep.”

The kid doesn’t argue. In fact, his lips curl up.

That’s weird, right? A kid being excited about having to work?

I squeeze past his wheelchair to open the fridge. Grabbing the bacon, I set it on the counter.

Joel stares up at me with narrowed eyes, a knife clutched in his fist.

Oh boy.

“You’re not going to stab me with that are you?” I say casually. “Because if you want to murder me, you’re going to have to get in line. I’ve got a ton of ex-employees who already claimed the privilege.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Joel mumbles.

My eyebrows hike.

He keeps staring at me like I’m going to bust out a pair of handcuffs and take him to jail. “Did Clarissa tell you to do that?”

She did. But I had no plans of listening tothatinstruction.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What part of putting you to work counts as ‘being nice’? We all need to eat. We all need to work.”

His shoulders lift in a shrug and I see beyond the cocky teenager act to the uncertain boy beneath.

“People don’t really ask me to do things.” He looks unsettled after admitting that. His chin hoists up. “So why do you?”

“Because you’re more than capable,” I mutter.

His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Kid, you have two working arms and a working brain.” I wash onions under the sink and set them in front of his cutting board. “You can do anything anyone else can do. It’ll just take a little extra maneuvering.”

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