Page 31 of Miss Trust

His eyes surveyed the ingredients on the counter. “You still have room for one more?”

“Um, sure.”

“If you don’t have enough, I can order in.”

“No, no, there’s plenty. But it’s just tacos.”

His brow quirked. “Have you met anyone who doesn’t eat just tacos?”

I grinned. “Good point. Wash your hands. You can chop.”

I thought for a moment he would argue. Hell, I’d banked on it. But instead, he took off his suit jacket, washed his hands, and rolled up his expensive, long-sleeved shirt, thus showing me his sexy forearms. He awaited my instructions by the cutting board.

“Um, you can start chopping the mango. It’s all peeled.”

“You put mango on your tacos?”

“It’s Penelope’s favorite, so I make a salsa with it. It’s good.”

I half expected him to complain, but instead he began chopping with an impressive precision. He glanced up to meet my stare. “You didn’t expect I’d grow up with Mona and turn out useless in the kitchen.”

Huh. I supposed it made sense. His affection for Mona had me curious. “She said she was with you since you were a baby.”

“Yes, she was. While I was growing up, she was the only constant in the house.”

I told myself I didn’t care when he gave me tidbits about the personal side of him, but the truth was, I did. “She’s terrific with Penelope. I appreciate you bringing her here.”

He stopped chopping, his vivid green eyes focused on mine. “If I’d known helping you in the kitchen meant we could call a truce, I would’ve chopped things for you a lot sooner.”

My face heated. I’d been less than appreciative for everything he’d done for Penelope. “It’s not easy for me to accept help, but it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for it. I’m sorry I haven’t been more appreciative about the job, living quarters, car. Just everything.” The words weren’t easy to say, but they were needed.

His eyes went wide for the briefest moment before he concentrated back on his task. “Why do you have such a hard time accepting help? Aside from your general stubbornness and to piss me off, of course.”

I was about to retort with something smart before thinking better of it. We were engaged in a truce, and the change in atmosphere felt nice. “It’s a story for another time. Probably with a good deal of whiskey involved.”

His gaze penetrated mine as if he suspected the demons I hid. “Did you tell your sister about the hospital stay?”

“I did. She wishes she could come home, but there’s not a whole lot she can do. Plus Reid accepted a job in Sydney, so they have quite a bit to manage before they leave.”

The clench of his jaw told me he hadn’t heard this news. “When are they moving?”

“I believe she said two months. Teagan’s contract will be up, and they’ll go together. She seems ready to take this step.” I had my reservations, but to be fair, they had nothing to do with Reid and everything to do with my own trust issues.

“If you’re worried, you shouldn’t be. Reid is completely in love and committed to your sister.”

I reserved my opinion since I’d yet to see them together, but if her happiness over the phone could be trusted, then they were good together.

“She seems happy, but if he hurts her again, I will hunt him down—”

He chuckled. “Whoa, whoa. He didn’t hurt her on purpose.”

“No, but you did.”

He stopped mid-chop. Forget a clenched jaw—this time his entire body stiffened. His eyes burned into mine. “You’re right. I did.”

“That’s it? No excuses? No regrets?”

He shrugged. “I take accountability for my actions, even when I’m wrong. As far as regrets, even they have their purpose.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if I hadn’t been an asshole to your sister and didn’t want to make things up to her and Reid, then Teagan would still be putting herself in jeopardy by working at the Scarlett Letter, Penny wouldn’t have been moved to better medical care, and I wouldn’t be here chopping mango.”

In other words, his end justified the means. We were interrupted when Penelope came into the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her.

“Yes. Did you make tacos?”

“I did. With mango salsa.”

“Yum. Hi, Mr. Chance,” Penelope greeted, making me smile.

“Hi, Penny. How you feeling?”

My daughter smiled, taking a seat at the table. “I’m good.”