Page 18 of Falling for You
Dramatically rolling her eyes, she stabbed her key into the lock and shoved her way inside. Not holding the door for Evan, he was forced to drop his arm as he followed. She shrugged off her coat and tossed it on the couch. “I’m fine. You can go back to the diner.” She hated how clipped her tone was.
Evan stomped his sneakers on the mat and toed them off, walking in socked feet to join her on the couch. She slid closer as his weight shifted her placement on the cushion. Of course, she could have tried to stay away from his comforting warmth, but her body wouldn’t let her. Apparently when Evan was involved, she lost all control.
“You’re not fine. You still look pale. Mallory called me to make sure you eat something.” Pressing his hands to his legs, he stood and showed himself to CeCe’s kitchen.
For a chef, someone going into your personal kitchen was very intimate. It was tantamount to rummaging through someone’s closet. CeCe wasn’t sure why, but Evan being in her private space didn’t bring the same reaction as when others did. As she plodded after him, her cheeks flushed at the sight of him opening her pantry and cabinets. His brow was furrowed as he sniffed an open bottle of hot sauce.
“I can warm something up later. I’m really not hungry,” she protested as she propped against the counter. It took every ounce of self-control not to stare at Evan’s backside while he crawled into her massive refrigerator. “Really, I’ve got this.”
Finally, Evan stepped back and held out two plastic containers. “Here’s some soup and those veggie fritters you made on Monday. Take a seat, and I’ll have lunch ready in a few minutes.” Without waiting for her input, he turned and started searching for a pot and pan. She couldn’t look away as he took control of her kitchen, adding oil to a pan and heating the fritters.
The aroma of cumin and garlic filled the air while he poured out the soup. “I’ll get us something to drink,” CeCe offered as she strode to the fridge for a pair of water bottles. Evan smiled when he saw her place the second bottle on the counter. “I can’t very well have you going hungry, especially since you gave up your shift to play babysitter.”
Evan slid a bowl over to her spot. “I wouldn’t call this babysitting. You know I want to help.” Easing himself onto his stool, he allowed himself a moment to scan over CeCe from her perch beside him. “I’m worried about you. Something is clearly going on.”
Squirming on the stool, she turned her attention to the water bottle and twisted the top, fumbling with the cap. It skipped across the tiled floor, where it landed by the stove. Oh well, she’d deal with that later. Right now, all she could focus on was this man, showing more concern and tenderness than she’d seen before. Evan didn’tneedto worry about her, but she couldn’t ignore what his concern did to her. Her ribcage could barely contain her heart as it swelled under his scrutiny. While the thought of Eric had her running for antacids, Evan gave her the cozy feeling of having hot cocoa on a winter’s morning. This sense of nurturing—of someone taking control—felt foreign but not unwelcome.
“Don’t worry about me,” she assured him. “I’m probably a little hangry.”
Evan looked far from convinced, but he had the patience of a saint and turned his attention to his meal. For all his concern, he was always distracted by food. CeCe had seen him polish off slices of pie after eating half a crock of soup. The guy must have a hollow leg, or the best metabolism in the world. Crunching into a fritter, his eyes fluttered shut as he chewed. “Why don’t you make these for the diner? I’m half in love over here.” He popped another into his mouth and hummed with delight.
His moans of pleasure sent a shiver down her spine, and she found herself chugging the rest of her water. Maybe she was more out of sorts than she realized. “It’s an old recipe I wanted to rework. No big deal.”
“No way, these are amazing. This is the type of thing we should enter in that food truck contest,” he said confidently. “These are familiar, yet flashy. Plus, fried food is always a winner.” Evan’s smile dissolved when he saw CeCe’s grimace. “What’s the matter?” he asked, frowning as she tried to cover her expression with her napkin. “You can tell me what’s going on.” He crossed his hand over his chest and said, “I’m a vault.”
CeCe could have drowned in the bright blue pools of his eyes. That soulful stare almost promised redemption and a fresh start, but she wasn’t falling for another set of bright eyes and a sweet demeanor. She was smarter than that, and she wouldn’t risk ruining what she’d built here. She hated keeping secrets, but she also couldn’t jeopardize her heart.
“Nothing is going on, just not thrilled with the prospect of competing.”
Evan tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, his eyebrow raised in protest. “Sorry, but I’m calling BS on that. You are a force in the kitchen, and you know you have what it takes to win. Why not show off a little? If nothing else, it would be great publicity for the diner. We have nothing to lose by competing.”
Oh, there was so much to unpack in his statement. So many ways to contradict Evan’s enthusiasm and blind hope. She knew better. She knew what being around Eric would do to her. How it would rip her open and expose all her ugly insecurities, the humiliation, all her fears. She had opened her life up to him before, and it nearly ruined her. She would not make that mistake again.
Instead, she took the coward’s way out. “Look,” she said, lowering her gaze to her empty soup bowl. Perhaps if she told a partial truth, she could get Evan off her back. “I used to work with Eric.” Once the words were out, she hazarded a glance to see if he was still paying attention. Before she could chicken out, she continued. “And it ended badly. The thought of seeing him again is not high on my bucket list.” There, that was near enough to the truth. Judging from how Evan’s expression shifted, it diverted his attention from the cracks in her façade, in her heart.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice lower and his expression sad. “I’m assuming Max already knows.” There was a note in Evan’s tone that was different from his normal demeanor, and it gave her pause.
“Yes. He knows. Eric’s come up in conversation before.” And boy, did it. CeCe had poured her guts out at Max’s during his reconciliation with Ginny. One too many shots of bourbon had given CeCe a loose tongue, but at least it brought comfort to Max during a tough time.
Evan rose and collected their dishes, his jaw clenched. CeCe sat back as he filled the sink with soapy water and carefully lowered the bowls into the suds. The domestic scene should have looked preposterous, but she found it soothing. He looked like he belonged in her space, made it better. When the dishes were clean and rinsed, he stacked them on the rack to dry. He draped a towel over the dishes and walked past CeCe to the door.
He bent down to put on his shoes, and she felt herself deflate. “You’re leaving?” She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Evan had no reason to stay and watch her mope around. He’d already done more than he realized by taking her home. He’d fed her in more ways than one in that short time.
“Are you angry with me?”
He gave up tying his shoes and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sick of no one trusting me with anything. I’m not a kid; I’m a grown-ass man,” he spat as he yanked open the door. “You’re allowed to confide in me, you know.” He stomped down the steps of her porch, his open shoes slapping on the concrete.
If CeCe wasn’t so upset at the sight, she would have laughed. “Evan, wait!” she shouted as she followed him to her driveway. He didn’t stop, but slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. She watched helplessly as he backed onto the street and out of sight. Her toes curled on the cold ground as she realized how empty she felt without him. In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from a comforting cocoon to literally being out in the cold.
CeCe wasn’t a fool. It was horrible that she lied to Evan about Eric. From how upset Evan was over hearing the half-truth, she could only imagine how furious he’d be if he knew the whole truth. But she wasn’t ready to spill any more details of her past. Maybe Evan was right, and she was trying to protect him. Protect him from her complicated past that she tried to avoid at all costs. But Eric Watson tainted everything, and she needed to keep whatever this was with Evan intact.
With a long sigh, she stalked back inside. Her home seemed lonely, the image of Evan in her space still in the forefront of her mind. She didn’t like to invite many people over, but she didn’t even balk when Evan made himself comfortable. That little fact brought her headache back with a vengeance. She felt terrible for upsetting him, and she felt a kernel of despair bloom at the thought that she missed him. Missed having him beside her, supporting her.
CeCe shook her head and fell back onto the couch. Evan was a friend—that’s all. There was no use sitting around daydreaming about a future with him. He was too sweet, too wholesome for her. Perhaps he didn’t realize it now, but he was better off keeping his heart away from her.
*
Evan drove around fornearly an hour until Mallory called. At first, he hoped he could ignore his sister, until she called for a third time in just as many minutes. Sensing his life would be easier if he answered, he turned on Bluetooth and accepted the call.
