Page 26 of In Good Company

I’m so lost in my own pity party—or maybe it’s an embarrassment party—to realize he’s left his chair. His fingers softly wrap around my wrists as he pulls my handsfrom my face.

“It isn’t silly,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

My heart hammers in my chest, but it isn’t because of embarrassment. It’s because Callahan Hastings is standing so close to me I can feel his breath against my cheeks. I can see the different blues of his eyes, how they’re darker around the iris and lighter around the middle.

Why does he have to smell so good?

Why am I learning that dark hair and light eyes might be my kryptonite?

Did he just look at my lips?

My mouth suddenly feels dry. I sweep my tongue across my bottom lip to wet it, all too aware of the sudden proximity between Cal and me.

He must realize it at the same time because with one quick movement, he’s back in his chair across the table from me.

Cal takes a large drink of wine. I sit, trying to process what just happened. Why did my body react like that to Cal? He’s my ex-boyfriend’s brother…and more importantly, he’s my boss. He shouldn’t make my heart race. Not like that. I don’t know if anyone’s ever made my heart race like that just by a simple touch and standing close to me.

I shake my head to clear myself of the thoughts. My heart rate was up because I was nervous. That’s the only reason.

I’m grateful for the music I put on before beginning to cook. At least because of the record player, we aren’t left in complete silence as we both sip on our wine.

Cal clears his throat. “You shouldn’t feel silly for wanting to share your recipes with the world. They’re amazing and deserve to be enjoyed by people everywhere.”

“I haven’t even been cooking for you for a week. Maybe I’ve just gotten lucky.”

He lets out a grunt of disapproval, making his feelingsabout my comment known. “I’ve had countless people cook for me, Lucy. I know talent when I see it, and you have it. I knew it from the meal at Laurent’s. Why do you think I was so adamant about you ditching private events to work for me exclusively?”

I shrug as I bite back a smile. “Maybe you just felt bad for me.”

He scoffs. “I’m not known to do things from the goodness of my heart, Lucy. I’m strategic. I act on logic and what will benefit me. While the decision to ask you to be my private chef was a little hastier than I typically am, I did it because I hated the thought of you using your talent on anyone else but me this summer.”

I swallow, his words having more of an effect on me than I was expecting. He uses every opportunity he gets to point out that he isn’t sweet or thoughtful, yet he says things like that? Cal has more of a heart than he thinks he does; you just have to read between the lines a little to find it.

At least, that’s what I think. It’s still a little early to tell.

“You should post the videos. Who gives a fuck about what anyone else thinks?”

I laugh before picking up my wine and polishing off the glass. “I care about what others think. Plus, I haven’t even been able to stop stammering enough to even complete an entire recipe video to share in the first place.”

“What about when you described the recipe perfectly to Jude? You didn’t fumble over your words once. You had him locked in, and that asshole hasn’t cooked a day in his life.”

I gasp. “What?” Jude seemed so interested.

Cal rolls his eyes. “He was flirting with you. You were excited to tell him about it. Of course he pretended to care.”

My body heats at Cal’s words. It isn’t because he talks about Jude. I haven’t gotten to know Jude very well yet, but it’s clear that flirting is just a personality trait of his.No, what makes my skin flush is the way Cal’s eyes darken when speaking about his best friend flirting with me. It almost seems like it’s jealousy, but I know it can’t be that. Right?

“So, why can you tell Jude so easily but not the camera?” His voice is tight. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to answer.

I anxiously chew on my lip, trying to come up with an answer that doesn’t sound ridiculous. The truth is, I don’t know why it’s easy for me to tell someone how to prepare a meal step-by-step in person. There’s something about talking to myself while the camera records that makes me freeze.

I lift my shoulder in a shrug, feeling like I’m under a microscope with his intense gaze. “I don’t know, Cal,” I get out with a sigh. “There’s just something about teaching someone who’s there with you rather than teaching a person you can’t see.”

He runs his fingertips along his jawline. For some reason, I want to know what his stubble feels like against my skin. Would it scratch my skin, or is it soft?

“Then record yourself teaching someone.”

I’m so deep in wondering what his stubble would feel like that I don’t even process his words until a few moments after he’s said them.

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