“I always wondered how people do that. With pancakes and omelets.” The fact he’d stayed, standing there to observe me, was curious.
“It’s all in the wrist. Of course, it took many ruined versions which turned into scrambled eggs before I perfected it.”
He didn’t respond. Only watched while I put the cheese in it and folded it over before then sliding it onto a plate.
I went about making a repeat.
“I said I don’t want one.”
“I heard you, but I’d already made enough for two. So I’ll make the extra and keep it for later.”
He sighed. “If it’ll go to waste, I guess I’ll eat it.”
I tried not to roll my eyes this time around. Whatever. As much as I sought approval with my food creations, expecting to get such from this man was a losing battle. “Help yourself, then.”
We ate in silence at the kitchen table. He didn’t offer a word. Not about how good the food was. Not what we were doing for the day. Nothing. It was beyond awkward. Finally, I’d had enough of the silent treatment.
“What’s on the agenda today?”
“I have five pages of a briefing for you to edit. Then I need to get the Myers bill out the door. Also, I need you to set up a call with Mr. Lambert over at Johnson and Johnson for next week.” He suddenly paused while I was taking a bite. “Do you need to get your notepad to write these things down?”
It was a good thing my omelet was so good; otherwise, I’d be flinging my eggs at him for thinking I couldn’t keep a mental list. “Nope. I got it.”
His brow arched as if he was skeptical. Forget the eggs. I wanted to fork him. And I meant it in the most unsexual way possible.
He sipped his coffee with practiced manners. I bet the guy didn’t slurp anything. I bet sex with him was clinical and boring.
Jesus. Where had that thought come from? Luckily, he snapped it with his next words.
“I need to take the truck for the morning but will return this afternoon.”
At least he was finally seeing his mother. “Take your time.”
“I will.” Suddenly he was up rinsing his plate and then up the stairs. No offers to wash the dishes today.
Chapter Twelve
Liam
Despite knowing I’d be overdressed for seeing my mother, I donned my suit and tie. Perhaps it was a sort of armor, reminding me I was a successful partner in a firm at which most lawyers would give their right arm to be hired. I made more money a quarter than most houses cost here in my hometown.
I’d made something of myself in leaving this town. The fact I’d returned didn’t mean anything other than I’d chosen to be here in order to support my mother. The suit also reminded me that this house situation with Kendall needed to remain purely professional. I’d meant to skip her breakfast this morning in order to gain some equilibrium in dealing with her, but the moment I’d eyed the omelet she’d been making, my mouth had started to water.
I left the house without saying goodbye. Another dick move to add to the list when it came to my assistant. Hell, I cringed now to think of my reaction last night when she’d asked if I was all right. I’d been way too vulnerable to talk to her about any of it. It wasn’t a side I wanted anyone to see, least of all someone who worked for me.
My plan this morning had been to run, shower, change, and be out of the house without seeing her. Instead, I’d sat down to breakfast with her, eating the best omelet I’d ever tasted and thinking about her in a way that left me very uncomfortable. There was a reason I’d worked so hard to put up barriers between us. The last thing I needed was for this one week to unravel it all.
Being behind the wheel of a pickup truck made me nostalgic for my youth. Every boy in town had driven one. Including me. Of course mine had been a beat-up Chevy my grandfather had passed down, but it had been all mine. He’d been the only positive male influence in my life growing up. Which reminded me. I needed to be sure to go by his and my grandmother’s gravesites in the local cemetery while in town.
Pulling up in my mother’s driveway was bittersweet. My childhood brick, two-story home appeared unchanged. I smiled the moment my sister came out of the front door. She had one kid on her hip and the other tugging on her leg. Shit. The girls were how old again?
“Hi, Allison,” I greeted, getting out of the truck and walking up to the door.
She was in jeans and a sweater, her blond hair up in a messy bun. “Hi yourself, little brother. Don’t you look overdressed.”
Leave it to her to bust my chops. “I live in suits almost daily.”
“Are they dry-cleanable?”
“Yes. Of course. Why?”
She thrust the toddler girl to me. “Good. You remember little Mavis. She’s two now, but last you saw her she was only a year old. And, Chelsea, say hello to your uncle Liam. She’s four now, by the way.”
Right. I could feel my blush at not being able to remember any of this. Both girls had my sister’s genes with their big blue eyes and warm smiles.
“Hi, Uncle Liam. Did you know that Grandpa died?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes, I did. But I wasn’t aware you called him Grandpa.” Given that my sister was two years older, she remembered the horrible times from our childhood even more than I did. So I was surprised she’d given our deadbeat dad the honor of being called Grandpa.
She sighed long and loud. “It’s Mom’s doing. Not mine. What do I say at this point when she tells the girls to call him that?”
Nothing, most likely. My mother had a tendency to worry more about how things appeared than the reality. Nothing like rewriting history one Grandpa at a time.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” They were kids, and it wasn’t my business. I smiled at my youngest niece. “I think Uncle Liam already needs a drink.”
My sister snorted. “You and me both. Come on in. Hoping we can go today and meet with the funeral home.”
It was fine by me. The sooner we got the arrangements settled, the better.
Stepping into the house was like traveling back in time. The same pillows on the floral sofa, the familiar pictures on the mantle of my sister and me as kids, the same smell bringing back all the memories of my childhood. Hell, even the same outdated wallpaper; it was faded but still intact.
Once I’d made partner, I’d offered to move my mom into a new house and out of this town, but she’d insisted on staying. Part of me wondered if it had been so my father would know exactly where to find her. As if she’d decided to stay in this house, waiting on him this entire time.
My mother came out of the kitchen, immediately smiling when she saw me. “Oh, my darling boy. You’re home.” She hurried toward me and hugged me tight, her five-foot-five frame only coming up to my chest. It was in this moment I knew I’d done the right thing in being here.
Until her sobs started. If ever I was at a loss, it was with tears. I tried to comfort her the best I could, with my sister slinking out of the room to keep from getting nominated to step in.
“It’s okay, Mom.” What else could I say? I didn’t share her grief, and I certainly didn’t know how to fake it, either.
Finally, the crying abated. “Why don’t we sit on the sofa?”
The first thing I noticed, despite her reddened, puffy eyes, was how much better she looked than a year ago when I’d last seen her. Her brown hair was newly highlighted. Her nails were done. I insisted on paying her taxes and any other large bills, but it was like pulling teeth to get her to spend anything on herself. Evidently, that had changed recently.
“Thank you for coming home, Liam. I know this isn’t easy.”
It was the understatement of the century. “I’m here for you, Mom.”
She smiled, straightening my tie. “And so overdressed.”
“It’s what I wear most days.”
“I know, and you look so handsome. Do you want some breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I already ate.” Once again, my mind flipped back to Kendall. But I
forced it back to my mom and what we needed to accomplish today.
By noon I had a raging headache. It was made worse by the fact the funeral couldn’t be held until Thursday. It was only five days away, but I’d hoped for something sooner that would enable me to fly back earlier. Spending almost a week here would be torture.
“Where are you staying?” my sister asked me when I helped her carry the girls out to her SUV to get them loaded up. They’d been troopers today, but it was clear they were ready for their naps by the way they kept rubbing their eyes.
“At a house in town. It’s an Airbnb rental.”
She quirked a brow. “Anything is better than the motels, I suppose. You’re welcome to stay with us. I promise I won’t put you on diaper duty.”
Staying with two kids under the age of four sounded like a fresh hell. “No, thanks. We’re comfortable at the house.”
I realized my mistake as soon as her brows shot up. “We? Did you bring someone with you?”
“Shhh.” I had to shush her before my mother heard. She was standing on the front porch smiling at us. “I had to bring my assistant.”
Allison scoffed. “You dragged your assistant all the way to your hometown from LA? You expect me to buy that?”
“I don’t care what you buy. It’s the truth. I have a deposition in two weeks, and I need her help.”
“Fine. Fine. What’s the address?”
“Why, so you can show up out of the blue? Nope. Not happening.”
She didn’t bother to deny her nosiness. “You got me. Is it at least nice? It isn’t too run-down, is it?”
Considering a lot of the houses in town had seen better days, I didn’t blame her for asking. “It’s fine. Newly remodeled with a fully functioning office. That’s all I care about.”
“Good. So, I guess I’ll meet you at Mom’s house tomorrow, and we’ll go do the headstone thing.”
“Yep.” I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a dull butter knife, but again, my mother had asked me to go. I’d have to find a way to suck it up.
“It’s nice of you to offer to pay for everything.”
“It’s not a problem.” My mother was on a fixed retirement and social security income. And my sister was a stay-at-home mom with two children and a husband who worked hard in middle management. I knew money was tight. The last thing either of them needed was a twelve-thousand-dollar funeral expense. Although I hated the idea of paying for a man who hadn’t given one dime toward child support, I supposed in a way it was the ultimate fuck you.
I’d never been one to take a nap, yet the thought of doing so sounded amazing as I pulled out of my mother’s driveway. Especially with my head still feeling as if it would explode. Deciding I wouldn’t make it through the evening without some sort of alcoholic beverage, I stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of bourbon.
Then, because I was feeling so down, I next went by the Food Lion to grab flowers. I was thankful no one had yet recognized me in my small town.
The cemetery was only a couple miles outside of town and completely void of people on this freezing Saturday afternoon. I made my way to the unfamiliar graves of my grandparents and laid the flowers down. The gray sky and chill in the air was reflective of my mood while I paid my respects. I’d been lucky to have them both in my life when my father had left. They’d made sure my mom had kept it together for us kids and had gone out of their way to spend time with me and my sister. They’d both passed away when I was in law school, only months apart. At the time, I hadn’t been able to afford to come home for their funerals. Guilt still gnawed at me for not being there.
Finally, unable to stand the cold any longer, I walked back to the truck and drove the few miles to the Airbnb.
As I walked through the front door of the rental, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but seeing my assistant’s sexy ass hadn’t been on the list of possibilities.
She was bent over getting something out of the stove, shaking it to the beat of whatever pop music was playing on her phone. She’d changed back into those infuriating yoga pants, showing me just how shapely her bottom half was.
I went over to the phone playing the music and pressed pause.
She stopped and smiled at me. “Hello.”
My temper snapped. “I’m not paying you to bake cookies. You had a list of things to do today.”
She stopped, putting the pan on the stove and shutting the oven door before turning back around. “Actually, you’re not paying me. The firm is. Second, it’s Saturday, which means I’m not officially on the clock. Third, I’ve accomplished all of those things you did ask for. The draft bill for Myers is there on the table for you to sign off on. The call with Johnson and Johnson is set for Monday morning because, like me, their assistant is also working on a Saturday. All of your edits are in the document that was emailed to you an hour ago. And for the record, these aren’t cookies. They’re scones.”
They smelled delicious, making my stomach rumble. Not eating them would be my penance for jumping down her throat simply because I was in a shit mood. “Fine. I’ll be upstairs in my office. Finish up your scones or whatever and meet me up there in ten minutes. I have another list of things for you to do.”
“Fine. Did you eat lunch?”
The last thing I wanted was her offering to make me some. “I’m not hungry. Ten minutes.”
I could swear I heard her curse under her breath.
Chapter Thirteen
Kendall
I watched Liam go up the stairs while I mentally calmed myself. I liked to think of myself as a good person. Aside from my secret document listing ways for my boss to suffer, I was normally even tempered. And to be fair, wishing for suffering via papercut or an ugly cold sore wasn’t all that bad. Okay, maybe the entry imagining him getting explosive diarrhea during a trial went too far. But in my defense, I’d written that one after he’d told me I was too chatty in the office and needed to remember I was there for one reason.
Little did he know. The one reason was to collect my paycheck. Oh, I was also taking advantage of the education benefit, and as soon as I was done with that, I wanted to quit. Hopefully I could find a job which paid more and allowed me to pursue my passion for cooking. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure. Someday meet someone. Have kids. Host family parties like my mother did with all of my cousins, aunts, uncles, and of course, my nan. She might be in her eighties, but it didn’t keep me from hoping she’d live forever.
Meanwhile, I was working for Liam. He was an asshole, but he sure as hell beat the last partner I’d worked for. That guy had stared at my chest and legs. After he made an inappropriate ass grab at the office holiday party, they’d reassigned me to Liam. Of course, my former boss had merely received a slap on the wrist and was probably on to harassing the next legal secretary.
I couldn’t wait to be done working for attorneys. Although I didn’t mind learning about the law and keeping someone organized, it was stressful to live around the billable hour. Even if I wasn’t the one charging for my time, I could feel the tension in every ten-minute increment Liam billed. I wondered if they’d add another partner to my work load soon, but it had yet to happen. Considering he was more than enough to keep me busy, I wasn’t anxious to start working for anyone else in addition.
Eleven minutes after Liam had gone upstairs, I followed. The extra minute was my way of rebelling. Oh, yeah, I was a real wild one. Then again, I had no doubt he’d noticed.
Just like back in LA, he didn’t glance up when I came to stand on the other side of the desk. And just like before, he started talking without any chitchat or niceties.
“The Myers bill can go out. I have one change.” He handed it over.
“All right.”
“I see the call on my calendar for Monday, but is it Pacific time or East Coast? There’s the three-hour time difference.”
Is there now? It was on the tip of my tongue. “It’s all East Coast time; I adjusted for the time change in the same way for the o
ther appointments on your calendar.”
“Fine.”
God, how I loathed the F-word. It sounded as if he wasn’t happy but would deal with it.
“The funeral won’t be until Thursday. When did you schedule our return flights?”
“They are for Friday.” I’d anticipated a week, thinking I could always change it if we’d be able to leave earlier.
“And the house rental?”
“Also rented through Friday.”
“I don’t want you to feel as if you need to cook for me. It’s uncomfortable enough as it is.”
Funny for him to use the word uncomfortable. For me it was a bit strange. Weird. But uncomfortable? Meh. Not really. He was the same condescending asshole here as he was in the office. “How about you see it a different way? You bought the food. I’m cooking meals for myself and may have more left over for you to eat? Frankly I don’t get a lot of people I have time to cook for. You can be my guinea pig.”
He didn’t crack a smile. I mean how could you not at the words guinea pig? Picturing their cute little faces didn’t even inspire a twitching lip? Nope. Not for Mr. Personality.
“Fine. But don’t take offense if I don’t like something.”
“I never do.” The words left my mouth before I could think about it. Needing a change of subject, I pivoted quickly. “Is there anything I can do for the funeral? Order flowers. Food? Anything?” Although Liam was usually self-sufficient when it came to managing his personal affairs, this was something for which I actually hoped he’d ask for help.
His face softened a smidge. “If you could arrange the food catering for the reception after the funeral, it would be helpful. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of options in Tazewell, but I’m sure there are some possibilities in the neighboring towns.”
“How many people?”
Miss Understanding (The Miss Series Book 1) Page 6
