Page 17 of Knot Alone

My being welcomed in their home is almost too much. Linus’ safe feeling is multiplied by the one person in the world who should be the most territorial over him. So, I spoon a portion of rice into my mouth to spare myself the trouble of speaking. The cheesy risotto melts on my tongue in a burst of sweet peas. It’s so good I can’t stop my moan.

I flush in embarrassment and glance up, hoping they didn’t notice. Graham has, of course. He grins at me. “The best kind of compliment.”

“This is amazing.”

“I took cooking classes.”

“He’s a chef.” Linus pipes up from my other side, a little strangled. I glance at Graham, who slides his spoon out slowly between smiling lips.

I missed something and Graham knows it, but he just smirks. “Keep eating.” He points his spoon at my plate.

“You’re a chef?” I ask. “I thought you were a sculptor?”

Graham’s eyebrow goes up. “My caseworker showed her your file,” Linus explains.

“Ah. I’m a ‘chef’ as in I went to culinary school, but I don’t work in a restaurant.” Being married to Linus means Graham can read the impolite question on my face. “I had a hard time finding myself after I injured out of the military. I planned for it to be my entire professional life and didn’t know who I was without it. So, I wandered from career to career for a while, just trying things out and seeing if anything stuck. Sculpting stuck. Art, generally. I paint, sketch, throw pots, but I sell more sculptures than anything, so that’s what goes on the forms.”

“And the plants?”

“I worked in a greenhouse for a bit. I didn’t like it for a career, but it’s one of my favorite hobbies. Like the cooking.”

“If your plants are anything like your risotto, I’m excited to see your garden.”

As charming as the story is, being an occasional artist doesn’t explain a house of this size or in this neighborhood. And Graham moved on from the explanation about his military service so quickly that I assume he’s not ready to answer questions about it.

“So, Linus.” I turn back to him, and he glances up from devouring his meal.

Ah. I bite back a smile and glance at Graham, who waves his spoon like, ‘See?’ This is why Graham doesn’t let Linus eat pasta in front of people. Though, I don’t mind the starved table manners. I’m plenty hungry from my orgasms, and I’m not even the one who did the work.

“What do you do?” I ask Linus.

“I’m a contract attorney.”

Graham snorts. “He’s also a Bridgeport Lockridge.”

“Why does that sound familiar?”

“You ever read the society pages?”

Linus’ sigh is pained.

“No. My mother does, though.”

“Gossip?”

“Social climbing.” I blush at saying that out loud about my mother. It’s an uncharitable thought I only have when we’re fighting. “Not that she’s—”

Graham puts his hand on mine and a shock runs down my spine. “We get it.”

Linus nods in agreement and swallows a mouthful. “My mother can’t climb any higher, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.”

“Your turn, Maggie,” Graham says with a little squeeze.

“I’m a bookkeeper.” Graham blinks like he didn’t expect that. No one ever does.

“And do you enjoy that?”

“It’s fine. I work from home, which is good because my older siblings can manage all their children without me.”

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