Page 53 of Cookbooks and Demons

“Well, this is definitely not going well,” she whispered.

Rafferty grunted a nod. All the grunting was gettingannoying.

“Okay, why aren’t you talking to me?” she asked.

He flinched and she realized that he was deliberately doing that and hadn’t expected to be called out on it. To her surprise, knowing that hurt a little bit.

“You’ve been giving me grunts and minimal answers all day. The most interesting thing you’ve said so far has been about the Opera Cake, and now you’re stonewalling me. Why are you playing gameswith me?”

He didn’t answer that, only looked away.

Realizing that wasn’t the right answer to the situation, Helena resettled in her seat and decided to start trying out the different butters until she thought of what the next right movemight be.

Then Rafferty said, “I thought you were going to sendme back.”

Hand paused on the breadbasket, Helena looked up at him. “What?”

“After last night, I have been waiting for you to sendme back.”

“I’m not going to send you back,” sheassured.

“Why?” hedemanded.

Helena huffed and then stabbed at one of the pink scoops to smear across the crackly roll she opened. “I don’t have to answer why,” she said when she couldn’t come up with a good why in words. At least not one that involved diving into some dark places in her own history in order toexplain.

Rafferty shook his head. “I do not understand you.”

“What’s not to understand?” She took a bite of the pink smeared roll and creamy strawberries burst over her tongue. “Oh my gosh,” she said looking down at it as she chewed. “Oh damn that’sheavenly.”

She held some out to him to bite, which he did after only a half second’s hesitation. Laying her hand on his, the strawberry flavor bumped up to eleven, as well as the delightful taste of the butter. Her demon had to close his eyes as he savored it.

“You haven’t eaten all day, have you?” she asked. They hadn’t shared tastes at her breakfast. He had just served her and gone back into the kitchen, which she had been grateful for at the time. And then she hadlunch out…

“No,” he admitted softly.

“I’m sorry,”she said.

“I’m sorry, too. For last night. I got greedy and wanted too much,” he said and Helena’s heart started beating double time at the implication.

“What did you want, exactly?” she finally asked, daring him to meet her eyes and be honest.

“There isn’t a word to sum up what I want—what I have no right to have. You give me so much freely: your time, your companionship, the tastes, God, the tastes.” He touched his lips as if his tongue was an organ he had only just discovered. “And you don’t want anything in exchange for it.”

“Yeah, but what more didyouwant?” she asked, willing him to say it, the thing she was afraid of givingvoice to.

He drew himself up as if fortifying himself for her rejection. “I wanted to feel your touch,” he confessed.

It wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was so close. So very close to the right thing, the thing she couldn’t define but had absolute faith that she would when she heard it. It wasn’t something as simple as saying “I love you”; it was something more true.

“You mean, you did want …that, last night.” She waggled her eyebrows as if making a joke, but it felt so very wrong in comparison to the soft, gentle words he was saying. Yet he blushed allthe same.

“I haveno right.”

“Damn right, you don’t,” Helena confirmed softly, then caressed her hand over his larger one, up the bareness of his wrist to brush back the hairs of his forearm. “But you could have privileges.”

He stared at her for a long moment, unbelieving, his gaze so intense, the black stars in his eyes smoldered and burst. She should have been intimidated by their unearthliness, but now, she just knew they werehis eyes.

And if anyone else saw them doing that, they would be in trouble. Quickly, Helena covered his eyes with her hand, glancing around to see if anyone else there had noticed. No one seemed alarmed orpanicked.

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