A Cosmic Kind of Love(58)

“This apartment is amazing,” I told him honestly as he gestured for me to sit on a stool at the island. The aromas were also amazing. Chris could cook. Another very large tick on his pro column.

“It was my mom’s. She left it to me and Miguel.”

Wow. “I can only imagine how important this place is to you.”

“It is.”

“You’ll be back here someday, Captain.”

His expression softened. “Thank you for saying so.” Then he seemed to shake himself and leaned toward me with a wooden spoon. It had a dollop of sauce on it. “Taste it and tell me if it’s too spicy for you.”

Feeling suddenly bold, I held his gaze as I wrapped my lips around the spoon. He swallowed hard, his gaze on my mouth, and I felt like wiggling triumphantly in my seat. A layered heat hit my tongue in waves as I sat back to focus on the taste. It was spicy but not overly so.

“Perfect,” I replied.

Chris gazed at me a little too long before turning away. “Great.”

I smiled to myself. “Where did you learn to cook? When did you have time?”

“My aunt taught me a lot growing up, but I really got into it while I was training for my mission. Any downtime I had, I screwed around in the kitchen, trying different things. It’s relaxing.”

“I can’t cook, so I’m always impressed by anyone who can.”

“I’m sure you could if you tried.”

“Oh, I’ve tried. The last time was for my ex-boyfriend, George. I burned the pasta sauce, and I also put too much sugar in it instead of salt, but I didn’t want to tell him because he’d lecture me, so I pretended like I thought the sauce was the greatest thing in the world. I’m pretty sure he must have thought I was crazy.”

Chris kept his eyes on the food as he worked but asked, “Was that a while ago?”

“A few months ago. He dumped me.” I felt my cheeks turn hot as the actual dumping event came back to me in full-color surround sound. “He said I was ridiculous, not serious enough for someone like him, that my job was a joke, that I was a joke, and the only reason he’d stayed with me so long was because the sex was great. Maybe for him, not for me.” The latter I blurted out before I could stop myself. I groaned into my hands. “Why do I have no filter around you?”

“Hey.” His large hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged. I reluctantly revealed my face again, only to find Chris leaning across the island with an outraged expression. “He’s an asshole. You know that, right?”

I nodded, somewhat taken aback by his vehemence. “I know. I told him as much.”

“Good.” He released me to stand back, his expression still thunderous. “That’s all about him and has nothing to do with you. He didn’t deserve you.”

Flutters of desire made themselves known in my belly. “I know. But thank you.”

His dark gaze met mine, cutting right through me with his intensity. “Hallie, I hate that someone would say that to you. I think you’re amazing. I’ve only known you a few weeks . . . but I can’t believe we’ve become such good friends in so little time. You’re one of my closest friends now.”

Those flutters died dramatically in my stomach, gasping for a last breath like they’d just been shot.

Closest friends.

Friend.

I’d just been friend-zoned.

“Hallie?”

Pull your shit together. Do not let him see how much this hurts. I forced a smile I hoped seemed natural. “I guess there are people who meet and they just get each other.”

“Exactly.” His warm eyes glittered at me, and a confused dismay filled me.

Had I imagined the heated look just a few minutes ago? Or the one he’d given me when he was half-naked and pulling me up off his aunt’s hallway floor?

What about the hot little smiles we shared now and then?

Or the way the air seemed to thicken between us when we got too close.

Had I really imagined all of that?

Fuck!

How pathetic did that make me?

“Dinner is almost ready. Can I get you a drink? I have beer or wine.”

“Wine!” I practically yelled, hopping off the stool. My heels clicked loudly as I moved across his hardwood floors. “Let me help you. You want beer?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

I poured myself a large glass of red wine as Chris plated the food and led me over to his dining table.

“My Realtor would kill me if she knew I’d made curry the night before viewings start.”

Glad for the subject distraction, I nodded. “Just open the windows. Try spritzing some cologne or something. Where did you learn how to cook curry, anyway?”

“Aunt Richelle went backpacking with Akio after college, and they spent a lot of time in Southeast Asia. This is a Cambodian red curry chicken dish. She got the recipe from a local she befriended.”

“Ooh, that’s exciting. I’ve never tried an authentic Cambodian dish before.”

It was delicious. Of course it was. Anything Chris put his mind to turned out well, right? Twenty minutes ago, that would have made me smile with giddiness. Now I resented him for it. He was too perfect.

And he didn’t want me.

That really shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did.