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She couldn’t freaking cook.
“I, um, well . . . nothing! You shouldn’t bring anything. I’m supposed to be cooking to say thank you. And any time after six, I guess.”
That should give her time to make something. Surely.
Maybe she’d just buy something. That would be okay, right?
“I look forward to tasting your cooking.”
Well, rats. Buying something was out, then.
“Me too. I mean, uh, thanks.” Her shoulders slumped.
“I need to go and get rid of the spider before we have our tea.”
Tea?
Oh, shoot. She’d forgotten that he was staying for a cup of tea. And she had all that food downstairs to clean up.
“Sure. Thanks. Bye, Clive. Have a nice life.”
Ten minutes later, she had the kitchen in a semblance of order and the kettle was heating on the stove.
But when Regent walked back into the kitchen, he looked serious.
“I’m sorry, I have to get a rain check on the tea.”
“Oh sure, that’s okay. It will still be here when you, uh, well, when you next want some tea. Not the same tea, of course. I’d make you some fresh tea.”
Dear Lord.
Please let the earth open and swallow me whole. I beg you.
He walked over to her. To her shock, he put his hand over her forehead. She took a step back, but he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Stop backing away from me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I didn’t think you would,” she said. “I just . . . you took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“I just wanted to check that you weren’t running a fever.”
Right. Because she was babbling like an idiot.
“No, I’m fine. And you better go.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, Jilly? You would tell me if anything was wrong.”
That last sentence wasn’t a question. It was a demand. And somehow, she found herself nodding, even as she cursed herself for being an idiot.
“Sorry. It’s just . . . you make me nervous,” she told him.
“I can tell.”
Right. Because it was completely obvious.
“Nerves are expected. But being scared of me is not. Understand?”
“Yes. I, um . . . I’ll see you Sunday.”
