Page 51 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
Deep breath, Claire.
He stepped to my side and pulled my chair out.
“White or red?” he asked, nodding to the bottles. “I have sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, and a pinot.”
“Sauvignon blanc, please.”
He reached for the corkscrew. I watched his hands. He’d changed: a dark sweater, real pants. I should’ve put on mascara. Or something.
The cork eased out with a soft pop. He tipped the bottle and poured for me first. Then he filled his own glass.
“Still or sparkling?” he asked, touching the two bottles by the water glasses.
“Sparkling.”
He poured, then set the bottle within reach. He took still for himself.
“May I?” he said, and stepped a little closer to slide my chair in. I was still on my feet, apparently forgetting how chairs work. My knees brushed the table leg. His hand was warm on the back of the chair. He let go and stepped back; the heat didn't.
He moved to his seat. We looked at each other. The room went quiet except for the music and the faint hiss of bubbles in my glass.
Then his eyes flicked to the empty plates, the kitchen, back to me. “Right,” he said, a little pink in his cheeks. “I should probably bring the actual dinner.” He stood and brushed my shoulder on his way past.
I let out a breath and lifted my glass. Half the sparkling water was gone before I set it down. My pulse eased. I smoothed the napkin in my lap and watched him at the stove, steady hands, that dark sweater, the soft clink of plates.
Okay. Reset.
It’s dinner to say thanks.
Keep your head.
Quiet Hours
Laim
Ienjoyed watching Claire finish every last bite of the seafood risotto. Even I had to admit, it was good.
“Okay, Liam, let me make you a proposition.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Claire, where is this going?”
“Shush. You’re going to like it.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” I said, leaning back to give the food some room to settle.
She set her elbows on the table, fingertips together. “When you’re on the road, I can continue to microwave…”
I opened my mouth to object.
“Without any stink eye from you,” she continued, undaunted.
“Okay,” I said warily.
“And when you are home, I will allow you to cook for me.”
I laughed. “Um, Claire? What’s in this proposition for me?”
“Simple,” she said, laying her hands flat on the table. “You won’t have to watch me microwave anything.”
