Page 36 of Blitzing Emily

“Fine.” He exhaled. “We should be talking, though. We’ll get to know each other better so we can pull this off. We both have to eat.”

He made it all sound so reasonable. Emily was not one of those stupid women who would let a guy talk her into anything, but for all intents and purposes, Brandon had been talking her into pretty much anything he suggested for the past day and a half. She had to stop this.

“How do you feel about scrambled eggs and toast?” he asked.

“That’s breakfast. It’s dinnertime.”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never had breakfast for dinner before.” He shook his head and began opening and closing cabinet drawers. “Where are your pots and pans?”

“I don’t have any.”

“You have a cookie sheet, but you have no pots and pans?”

“Amy likes to come over and bake cookies sometimes.” Okay, she sounded a little defensive, but he didn’t have to laugh at her.

“I can’t believe you don’t cook.” His smile broadened. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind Emily’s ear. She jumped, and he looked pleased. “What’s going to happen if you actually want to cook something one of these days? What will you do then?”

“I can order it from somewhere, or I can buy it ready-made. It’s ...” Her voice trailed off for a minute, then she took a breath and informed him, “It’s a waste of my time. I have other things to do.”

“I meant what I said about teaching you how to cook.”

Emily closed her eyes for a moment. It would be nice if they could get through five minutes without disagreeing about something. But if it was so awful, why was her heart beating so fast? He was going to laugh at her, but he’d find out sooner or later.

“My mom tried to teach me, and it was terrible. I burned everything, and she—”

Her voice trailed off. The faintly mocking expression in his eyes faded. To her surprise, Brandon didn’t laugh.

“You’ll learn. Cooking’s like kissing. It takes practice.” He let that sink in for a minute or two. “If we can’t have eggs and toast, we’ll have to come up with something else. Let’s get Chinese.”

“That will work.” Emily sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He sat down next to her.

“See how easy that was? If you agree with me, things go so much better.” He had to be kidding. “Our first fight.”

“If that was a fight, we’ve been fighting since we met.”

“Of course it was,” he soothed. “Maybe I need to stop at the jeweler’s tomorrow and pick something up for you to mark this occasion with.”

“Are you serious?” she said. The smile he wore got even bigger.

“Then again, I already bought you something today. What’ll I do tomorrow, huh? I like the idea of bringing you something every day.” He moved closer to the table, and stretched out one hand to her. His voice dropped to a low rumble. “Maybe I’ll get you a nice set of pots and pans.”

Cookware never sounded sensual before she met him.

“You can take your pots and pans and—”

“Now, don’t get upset. I’ll tell you what. Let’s call the restaurant and order some food.” He spoke with exaggerated patience. Any second now, he’d start spelling the big words. “Do you think we could agree on that?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose.” Despite being half-crazed with frustration, Emily had to laugh. He tried to pretend he was completely disgusted, but his eyes sparkled. They were especially green today. Maybe they changed colors.

“How do you feel about cashew chicken?” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“Brandon,” she said.

“You need a pet name for me. Everyone else has one.”

She couldn’t resist teasing him again. “Box of Rocks?”

“That’s going to leave a mark.” He smiled indulgently. “How about something nice? Pretend you like me.” Emily let out a snicker. “I’m expecting some originality here. Everyone is ‘baby’ or ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie.’ You think it over, and we’ll discuss it later.” His fingers curled around hers. She pulled her now-sweaty hand away.

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