He tilted his head. “May have?”
She gave him her best don’t-hate-me smile. “I was thinking maybe we could still have a cooking lesson tonight. And maybe I could video it to share with my readers and podcast listeners? I try to mix in some fun content in between all the murdery stuff.”
Hill’s expression went flat. “Video it.”
“I know you nixed the idea of being the horror-movie virgin on my podcast, which is totally fine, but I thought this may be more up your alley. You love to cook, and you’re really good at teaching it. I think if you gave it a shot, this could be a fun project for you.” She rocked back on her heels, bracing for him to shut her down. “I just know that, for me, when I’m going through a tough time, the best thing I can do is direct my energy toward something creative. I wrote my first book when I was in a really dark place, and it helped get me out of it. And I started the podcast when my anxiety was starting to overwhelm me because it gave me a small way to fight back against the bad guys.”
Empathy filled Hill’s brown eyes.
“I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through,” she went on. “My trauma was different from yours, but I know that finding things—even little things—that gave me joy helped me build up my energy again so that I could tackle bigger things. Maybe teaching other people to cook could give you that little boost.”
Hill let out a breath and ran a hand over the back of his head. “This is you being pushy.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. Which you said you appreciated and, frankly, kind of asked for.”
He glanced toward the closed doors of the test kitchen and set down his mineral water on a table by the door.
“If you hate it, I won’t post the video, but I think this could be fun,” she rambled on. “I ordered some ingredients, and Hollyn made sure they were put away in here for us. I also thought you might enjoy cooking in the fancy kitchen they have here since my kitchen is kind of bare bones.”
Hill turned back to her, and she braced for him to be annoyed, but instead, he lifted his hand and cupped her jaw, his gaze searching hers. “Thank you.”
She brightened. “Really?”
His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek. “Yes. I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone who’s so…sweet.”
She grimaced at the word.
He smiled. “Don’t make that face. I don’t mean that in a dismissive way. I just mean that it’s rare to find someone who spends their time thinking of ways to help someone else or make their life better. That’s sweet. And kind. And sexy.” He bent down and kissed her gently. “So I will cook for you on video, but no promises on if I’ll give the go-ahead for you to post it. I’ll have to make that call afterward. I’ll probably be awkward as hell on-screen.”
The simple kiss and his words had sent goose bumps chasing over her skin. She smiled. “Deal.”
He swept an arm out in front of them. “Lead the way, pushy one.”
She grabbed his hand. “Great. I’m starving.”
For dinner. But also for more time with Hill. So many times in her life, she’d pushed her friends a little too far, her “help” sometimes perceived as being overbearing, as annoying, as Andi being too much. Her family had always thought she was too much. Still did. She realized that she’d expected Hill to react the same way.
Instead, he’d called her sweet and kissed her and said yes to her plan. He was going to step out of his comfort zone and trust her. That vote of confidence filled her up. She wasn’t going to let him down. This was going to be the best damn cooking-lesson video ever created.
Or at least the most fun.
She would make sure of it.
Chapter Seventeen
Hill followed Andi into the test kitchen as she flipped on the lights. The space was bright and modern, with an all-white kitchen and professional-grade stainless-steel appliances on the left and an area for a camera and chairs for spectators on the right.
“They keep things pretty neutral so that people can dress up the kitchen how they want for their videos,” Andi explained. “Or for live demos. That’s why the chairs are there. Sometimes Lucinda, the head of WorkAround, will bring in a local chef to teach us a few things as a perk for renting here.”
“This is a really great setup,” Hill said, taking it all in and running his hand over the white quartz countertops. The appliances alone were a cook’s dream. At the firehouse, the outdated equipment had required a hope and a prayer that something wouldn’t break down in the middle of a cooking session.
“I’m going to put my phone on a tripod,” she said. “Why don’t you double-check that we have what we need. I looked up the recipe for dragon noodles and got those ingredients, but they also stock staples here in the fridge and pantry if you need other things.”
“Thanks.” Hill went to work checking what they had and tried to ignore the fact that Andi was setting up a camera.
He hated the idea of being on video and was sure he’d be about as smooth as sandpaper on film, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now. Andi had arranged this in an attempt to do something nice for him, and the sentiment of that had hit him right in the gut. He’d meant what he’d said to her. The woman was sweet. In a way he’d never experienced.
From the very beginning, before the hanging out and the kissing and the touching, she’d set her sights on cheering him up. Bringing brownies over. Offering to plant flowers. Inviting him to watch movies with her. He’d initially perceived it as charity, as her feeling sorry for him, but the more he was around her, the more he realized that notion was misguided. She hadn’t straddled his lap and came against his hand as charity. She hadn’t invited him tonight to be nice. She wanted to spend time with him. But she also saw him.
Even when he tried to fake being okay, she saw through it. She knew he was fighting some demons, and she was showing him she wasn’t scared of that. She’d stand by his side as a friend and help him fight. And she did it without acknowledging what an extraordinary thing that was—to do that for someone she’d only met two months ago.
But maybe that was because she had been there—was still there on some level—with her own demons. He saw the shadows cross her face when she talked about her past. He’d seen the fear bubble up when she talked about sex. Maybe she saw through his bullshit facade because she knew how to wear one, too. They were shopping at the same costume shop.
He vowed in that moment that this wouldn’t be a one-way street. She was trying to help him, but he was going to be there for her as well. She wanted to learn how to trust a man again? Well, he was going to be the most trustworthy guy who ever lived. No more holding back with her. Honesty about who he was and what he was going through. Even if it was ugly or embarrassing. That was what he could give her.