Page 42 of Cinder
Because it unnerves me how much I want to.
When I dab too close to the bruise on her cheek, she flinches, and I feel a violent rage whip through me. She’s done her best to cover it with makeup, but I can see the discolored skin beneath it. I want to know who did this to her so I can find him and school him in what I think about men who hit women. I’ve broken my knuckles educating other men in the past, and I’d happily break a few more for Ella.
But she’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t want me to, so I’m not going to push the subject.
For now.
“It’s me she’s upset with,” I say, gently wiping soot from her skin. “This is her kitchen, and I hired you without speaking to her first.”
“That makes me feel worse. I shouldn’t be here if she doesn’t want me here.”
“Oh, she wants you here. She’s been complaining for weeks about finding a decent kitchenhand. The last good one we had left two months ago, and she’s been through three replacements since then.”
When I finish wiping Ella’s face, our gazes linger for a few seconds longer, and I am itching to kiss those plump lips.
But I take a step back instead and throw the cloth into the sink.
“Why did the replacements leave?” Ella asks.
“Mrs. V. fired them. Like I said, she’s very particular.”
“Oh, great. She’s going to fire me, for sure. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Unless she fires me first. And I don’t think it will take much. She seems a bit grumpy.”
“She’s just a little bit cranky, but she’ll get over it.”
“Who’s cranky?” Mrs. V. says, walking into the kitchen carrying a box of vegetables.
I take the box from her. “Me.I’mcranky.”
“You don’t have a cranky bone in that big body of yours, Lars Andersson.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t think I don’t know you both were talking about me.” Her eyes go straight to Ella. “So I’m cranky, am I?”
“To be fair, it was me who called you cranky,” I say, putting the box of vegetables on the counter. I give Ella a wicked grin. “Ella called you grumpy.”
Ella gasps, and her eyes go round. “You snitch.”
My grin widens because she’s damn cute when she’s mad.
Mrs. V. rolls her eyes. “Jesus, are you two flirting in my kitchen?”
Ella keeps her eyes on me as she replies, “I assure you, we’re not.”
Mrs. V. doesn’t look convinced. She nods to Ella. “What is this, some kind of foreplay?”
“Oh my God, no.” Ella ping pongs her finger between her and me for emphasis. “Him and me, we’re not like that, I assure you.”
I fold my arms. Enjoying this way too much. “Well, not now. But the other night, now that was a different story.”
She wants to kill me. I can see it in the homicidal glare she’s shooting at me from across the counter.
I know exactly why I’m torturing her. It’s because she’s so fucking gorgeous when she doesn’t know what to do or look or say. I have a feeling Ella has been told what to do and when to do it her entire life.
I wink at her, which just infuriates her more.
Mrs. V. starts to shoo me away. “Get out of here and leave my kitchenhand in peace.”
