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“Probably something you should have thought about before you tried to cook.”
She sighed. “I should have ordered some dinner or had Mrs. Yards come over and help me.”
“Who is that?”
“My neighbor across the street. She tried to talk me through making the cheese sauce.”
He winced. “Was that what was on the stove-top?”
“Yeah. It was meant to be.” She shook her head. “Rest in peace, roast lamb and cheese sauce.”
“How about next time I just bring dinner with me?”
“But that’s basically what you did tonight! I’m supposed to be thanking you. So next time, I’m buying dinner. In fact, we could go out to dinner.”
She never went out to dinner. She’d never mastered the art of eating alone in a public place.
Plus, for the last six months, she hadn’t been able to afford to go out. She’d used her entire weekly food budget for the next week to buy dinner tonight.
She’d hoped there would be leftovers, but she guessed it was ramen noodles for the rest of the week.
He shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t let you do that.”
Oh. Because he didn’t want to be seen in public with her? Fair enough.
“If we’re out together, I pay. If we’re eating takeout, I pay. Just like I open doors, carry heavy things, and walk on the side of the footpath closest to the street.”
She blinked at him. She had no idea what to say to that. “Why?”
“Why?” He raised an eyebrow as though unsure why she was asking. “Because I’m a man.”
She waited for the rest of the explanation. “And?”
“I’m a man who doesn’t let a woman pay for things for him. If I’m out with a woman, she’s under my protection. Therefore, she listens to me when it comes to matters of safety. And she allows me to do what I need to do to ensure her safety.”
Wow.
“That’s what being a man means to you?”
“It’s part of it, yes. That is what I need.” It was said simply. As though that was normal.
It wasn’t.
Well, not in her experience.
He liked to keep those around him safe. Jilly had never experienced having someone protect her like that. It sounded . . . amazing. Not that she’d probably ever be out with him to experience that.
She couldn’t ask him out now that she knew he’d insist on paying. It would be like all she wanted was a free meal out of him.
But still . . . there was one problem.
“Then how am I going to say thank you?”
He leaned forward. “By saying ‘thank you.’”
Oh. Yeah. She should have thought of that. But maybe a part of her had hoped that by cooking him dinner tonight, he’d spend some time with her, and you know . . . fall in love?
That wasn’t too much to hope for, right?
