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“Open door one,” I said to the car like he’d shown me, and the door began to open up.
The fact that this was even something that people had amazed me. What had happened to just pressing buttons? I was in a sour mood, and everything was going to annoy me tonight. All Storm’s vehicles were in their spots, which meant he was inside and knew I’d gone to see Bash.
Turning off the engine, I grabbed my purse. “Close door one,” I said aloud before climbing down out of the vehicle.
I had no idea what kind of mood he’d be in, but I was already pissed so if he was mad that I’d left without telling him where I was going, then he could just get over it. I was madder. Straightening my spine, I headed inside, ready to face the battle waiting for me. Not being able to point out that he had sabotaged my plan was going to be hard, but I’d work around it.
When I entered the house, I paused. It smelled like an Italian restaurant. I set my purse down on a decorative table on my way through the foyer, then down the hallway to the kitchen. The closer I got, the better it smelled. Had he gotten a cook? I’d told him I’d cook.
Stepping into the kitchen, I found Storm’s back to me as he stirred something on the stove. He was barefoot with a pair of jeans and navy-blue T-shirt on. Cooking. Jesus have mercy, this man was too much. I leaned against the doorway and watched him. He wasn’t here, waiting on me, scowling and ready to yell about my not telling him I was leaving.
“How does it drive?” he asked me, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Like a dream, but you know that.”
He picked up a hand towel and wiped his hands off, then turned around to face me. “I’m hoping you eat spaghetti. It’s the only thing I know how to cook, and Maeme made the meatballs for me.”
He wasn’t asking about Bash or my going to the bar. He knew though. The smug gleam in his eye gave him away. He was well aware that I’d gone there. But why wasn’t he pitching a fit?
“It smells delicious,” I told him.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the counter behind him. “You gonna tell me how it went?”
I wanted to snap back, Like you don’t know! But I couldn’t.
I shrugged. “He doesn’t have any openings. He must have better entertainment now.”
Storm’s brows drew together. “Did he say that?” The threat in his tone was clear.
He didn’t like that. Sure, he could make sure Bash didn’t hire me, but he didn’t want my feelings hurt. Blasted man.
“No,” I said, walking over to the pot on the stove to peek inside. “He said he wished he could hire me, but he was just packed. I was just saying if I was really that good, he’d have found a spot for me. That’s all.”
I cut my eyes back at him. “You aren’t mad that I went.”
He studied me. I had to make sure I didn’t give Bash away.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “I expected to get yelled at, not cooked for, when I got back.”
“I don’t yell at you,” he replied.
“Yes, you do. When you are mad, you raise your voice.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and walked over to me. “That’s not yelling. It’s arguing.”
“Same thing,” I replied sweetly.
His eyes drifted over my face, as if he was memorizing every spot. “You don’t want to be controlled,” he finally said as his gaze came back to mine.
“No, I don’t,” I agreed.
“This is me not controlling you.”
Like hell. He had manipulated that entire situation and was lying about it. I couldn’t get angry. He’d know.
Tamping down my temper, I smiled. “Thank you.”
It was the smallest of flickers. Tiny really, but I had still seen it. The guilt had flashed briefly, but it had been there. Good. At least he was struggling with his lie.
I stepped closer to him and ran my hand up his chest as it flexed under my touch.
“There will be a bar somewhere that will hire me,” I said.
“No.”
I sighed. “Control,” I reminded him.
He shook his head. “You’re better than a fucking bar.”
“Then, where should I sing? Hmm? You got any ideas?”
I gave me a smirk, then ran his fingers through my hair. “I’m working on that.”
“What does that mean?” I asked him, not leaning into his touch like I wanted to.
“I am looking into it. Why don’t you grab the plates? I need to get the garlic bread out of the oven,” he said, dropping his hand and walking over to it.
I wanted to push the topic, but I decided I’d bring it back up later. Going to the cabinets, I pulled down two plates.
