Page 30 of The Temptation
Simon said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but it only confused me more.
“Cheese?” I repeated as I took another look at the red facade of Findlay Market. It wasn’t the first place I thought of when I thought of cheese—not that I thought about cheese all that often.
Findlay Market had been a hub for Cincinnati for well more than a century, serving as a farmers’ market and one of the many city grocers. It had changed over the years, undergone renovations to keep up with the times and expanded. Years before I moved to the city, it had been an open-air market, but it had since been enclosed and divided up to house more individual shops, allowing the occupants to operate comfortably all year long. During the summer months, red tables and chairs filled the open area in front of the market, creating a spot for citizens to meet and enjoy some of the food they purchased from the shops and restaurants.
“Yes, cheese. You’re familiar with it? Fermented milk, right?”
Even he sounded iffy about the process of making cheese, and I chose not to wade in. I’d never made cheese or researchedhow cheese was made. I just appreciated how it tasted added to other food or simply put on a cracker.
“Shortly after I arrived in Cincinnati, I discovered Findlay Market. During our longer breaks, I would walk to the market, get something good to eat—usually cheese, bread, and a little olive oil—and walk back. It was a chance to get some exercise, see some of the city, enjoy the many murals that covered the sides of the buildings, and?—”
“Acquire some cheese,” I finished for him. He wasn’t right in the head, and I was starting to believe that I wasn’t either, because I was trailing behind him as if this all made sense. “Was there some other reason you demanded I join you other than needing help buying cheese?”
Simon had called me from the office and stated that it was imperative that I meet him at two o’clock at Findlay Market. Stupid me hadn’t asked any follow-up questions. I’d instructed Marie to clear my schedule, and I’d bolted out the door after grabbing my coat. If I had paused for even half a second, I would have realized that this couldn’t be an emergency.
The evil gremlin masquerading as my “boyfriend” spun around and blinked wide eyes at me. “What? You don’t need cheese?”
“I’m leaving.” I turned on my left heel to walk to where I’d parked my car but didn’t get more than two steps when a pair of hands gripped my elbow, holding me in place.
“Don’t be like that,” Simon huffed. “Tomorrow night is my performance for your parents. I’m anxious. Buying cheese, eating cheese, and simply owning more cheese makes me less anxious. While you’re with me, I thought we could talk about ways I could be more impressive for your parents, or at least take some cute shopping pictures. I still haven’t posted the pictures I took of us at the auction. It would be best if I spread things out. And you haven’t told me if you won any of the pieces that youbid on!” He reached up and waved his hand in front of my face. “That’s, like, five things that we can accomplish. We needed to meet like this.”
The sight of his bare hand snapped me from his rambling argument and filled me with a new frustration. His fingertips were red and trembling.
I caught his hand in my gloved one and squeezed. “Where are your gloves?” My gaze snapped to him to find that at least he was wearing the scarf I’d wrapped around his neck last night, along with a decently heavy coat.
Simon cringed, pulling his head closer to his shoulders. “Umm…I forgot them. I think I left them on the seat of my car. It has a heated steering wheel, and I like the feel of it when I’m driving.”
I released his hand and ripped off my gloves, shoving them at him. “Your hands are precious instruments for your art. You need to take better care of them. Put these on right now.”
“But we’re going in,” he argued even as he tugged on the first one.
“Doesn’t matter. The air in the building is still cool during the winter. You need to take better care of yourself.” While Simon tugged on my black leather gloves that were a bit too big for him, I adjusted the scarf, making sure it was tucked, keeping him as warm as possible.
“What about you?”
“My hands are fine. I can be bossy and sue assholes without my hands.” Once he was settled, I put his newly gloved hand on the inside of my elbow and escorted him into Findlay Market. “As for the rest of your nonsense, you don’t need to worry about impressing my parents. You have already impressed them,” I argued. It was a wonder they didn’t think their son wasn’t good enough for Simon. He’d accomplished more in his brief life than I could ever dream of. Not that I was jealous at all. I was proudof him and believed he needed to find someone who was as wonderful as he was. Clinging to old fantasies he might have about a much younger me was a waste of his time.
“I might be impressive, but do theybelievewe’re a couple? That I’m a good fit for you? If they don’t believe that, you’re never going to get off the hook. They’re going to keep pressuring you to return to Boston.”
When we reached the door, I pulled it open and stepped aside so he could enter first, releasing his hand. As I followed him, I couldn’t stop myself from raising my hand to touch his lower back lightly, as if guiding him along.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I ripped my hand away from him and shoved it into my pocket before it could go wandering again. Everything in me called out to take care of him, to protect him. Was this because he’d lost his older brother, the one who was supposed to be protecting him?
No, this wasn’t about Sawyer or Simon. It was me. I was the type to hover and worry. I enjoyed being a caretaker, the person who needed to make sure everyone was healthy, happy, and comfortable. The problem was that the guys I’d attempted to date in the past had hated this about me. They’d complained they didn’t need a mother or someone who thought they knew best. They wanted a hot and sexy but emotionally distant boyfriend who bought them expensive things. Not whatever the fuck I was trying to be.
Right now, Simon didn’t seem to mind, but he was likely excited to have any kind of attention from me after I’d refused to even be in the same room with him. It wouldn’t be long until he realized what a nuisance I was and moved on from his infatuation. Which was exactly what I wanted. I’d promised Sawyer.
“Do you come here often?” Simon inquired.
“That’s a terrible line,” I admonished, trying hard not to groan.
“Yeah, yeah. But I didn’t mean it as one. I was serious. Is this your first time here?”
“No, I’ve been here once or twice,” I murmured, even as a feeling was growing in the back of my mind. There was a specific reason I didn’t come to Findlay Market, but I couldn’t remember what it was. It couldn’t be a lack of time. Lack of interest? I did very little cooking. I had a rotation of chefs who came in throughout the week to make meals for me. There was no need for me to do any kind of shopping for food.
Simon snagged my elbow and pulled me forward. “I will show you all the best shops. You’re going to love it. I know the most wonderful places for cheese, and this cute handmade soap shop.”
