Page 60 of Rescuing Nathaniel

Reconciling the woman he’d been getting to know with the background he knew she came from and the luxuries she still enjoyed seemed almost impossible.

Yet he had to.

Had to keep reminding himself why he couldn’t get more attached than he already was.

“I’m quite capable of making lunch,” he snapped, immediately regretting the harshness to his tone when Ava flinched and took a step back.

Why was he doing this?

Why was he letting his fears that he wasn't good enough for her make him act like a jerk?

Was he really this much of a coward?

All these years, Nathaniel thought he had moved on from his childhood, from the abuse he’d suffered. Thought that he had built a life where he was impervious from its clutches so long as he kept his heart to himself.

Then along came a five foot two, blonde-haired, blue-eyed pillar of strength and bravery, and he realized he hadn't moved on from his past at all.

Not if it could make him speak like that to someone who had been nothing but sweet and kind to him.

“Sorry,” he said sincerely, turning to meet her gaze so she could see he meant it. “I'm just a little on edge today.”

“Okay,” she agreed with only the slightest hesitation. “We all have bad days sometimes. Apology accepted. And I didn't mean to imply that I thought you were too macho to know how to cook. The mashed potatoes last night were perfect, and you cooked the sausages just the way I liked them.”

A chuckle burst out of him without conscious thought. Here he was thinking she was implying he was too lower class to know how to prepare food that would appeal to her fancy palate, and there she was thinking he thought she was implying he couldn’t cook because he was a guy.

Once again, they were on totally different wavelengths.

“I’d love some help with lunch. I was making us pasta salad. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yum. One of my favorites. What do you need help with?”

Glad she’d accepted both his apology and his olive branch, he pointed to the tomatoes. “Why don’t you chop them while I do the cucumber.”

“Sure thing.” Ava moved further down the kitchen counter, picked up a knife, and began to slice them. “What else are you putting in?”

“Already did some onion, and I was going to add some peppers as well. Anything else you want to put in?”

“Maybe some salami if we have any.”

“I’ll check.” Setting down the knife beside the cucumber, he checked the fridge and found what he was looking for. “You're in luck.”

“Perfect.” Ava shot him an easy smile and he was grateful that she wasn't one to hold a grudge or make a big deal out of things because he certainly deserved whatever she wanted to dish out after his poor attitude all morning.

For a while they worked in silence, the only sound the clinks of the knives. It was a companionable one though, comfortable, and the more seconds that ticked by without a reminder of how out of her league he was, the more Nathaniel started relaxed.

The more he relaxed, the more his gaze darted to Ava, studying her slim form. Even dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater she was gorgeous. The way her hair was piled on top of her head in some fancy bun, with a few tendrils escaping to curl ever so softly around her face had him wanting to reach out and twirl a lock of hair around his finger. Then trail his fingers over her petal-soft skin, touching kisses to the bandage on her neck, evidence of the fact that she had put herself in danger for him.

He was so busy watching her that he didn't realize his elbow was so close to the glass of orange juice he’d been drinking while he worked. It went flying, spilling juice all over him and the bench. Luckily, he snapped out a hand and was able to catch the glass before it hit the floor and shattered, but the contents still got everywhere.

“Great reflexes,” Ava said with a giggle.

“Too bad I didn't use thembeforeI hit the glass,” he said, making her giggle again. “Sorry about the mess.”

“No big deal, easily cleaned up. Although you might have to take off your shirt. Orange juice is sticky.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he wondered if she was thinking about the conversation on unwrapping from when they were in Mexico.

“Sticky,” he agreed as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and quickly pulled it up and off.

There was no need to be a mind reader to know what was running through Ava’s mind as her gaze roamed his bare chest. Hunger danced in her pretty blue eyes, and a whole lot of appreciation.

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