Page 22 of An Accidental Flatmate

“Do I need to apologise to anyone?” Bea asked, hoping, for no good reason, that there was no one in his life right now except his new flatmate.

“Like who?”

“A girlfriend, maybe.”

His reply was swift. “No.”

“You broke your own rules for me, Casildo. Aren’t you worried about blowback?”

The chance to unload on a willing listener was rare. She didn’t join the competition to be heard at her family dinner table, although Mamá regularly came looking for her afterward with questions and sympathy.

“What did Smithers do?”

“Jackson didn’t come near me after I got back, but Martin, my boss, hinted at a new opportunity for me. Suggested it was really touch-and-go whether Jackson or I got this current promotion.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I believe Martin values me enough to make an effort, and I wasn’t sure of that when I went to work this morning.” Bea had responded early to pleas.“Help Mamá, help your sisters.” Not too many months ago she’d responded to Martin’s request to help Jackson.

Look where that got me? Him trying to get into my pants and, when that failed, stealing my ideas.

“The more important issue is whether or not you value yourself.” He turned back to the stove. “This will be ready in about thirty minutes. The spices need to meld.”

“Want me to make rice?”

“Already sorted. Anna has a rice cooker. Bless her cotton socks.”

“You’re the only person I know who is probably serious when you say cotton socks.”

“I asked. I’ve seen her curled up on the sofa at Hunt’s. Cotton or hand-knitted wool. She buys them from an old woman she knows.”

“I have a few pairs.”

“Can you let me in on the secret of the mystery knitter’s identity? Mum’s starting to complain about cold feet in bed at night. Although she denies it when I ask. Woollen socks make great bed socks.” He tipped cherry tomatoes into the pot.

Work functions didn’t often invite personal conversations. Bea had seen more of Casildo since Anna and Hunter got together, but discovering this more private Casildo was a daily delight.

“Don’t they have them at a department store? What about online?” She waited for his answer.

“Where’s the intimacy in that? Knowing who knitted your socks lets you sleep better.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re not the first to that conclusion.”

“I didn’t mean it.” She touched his elbow, wanting to erase the hurt from all the times he’d been mocked because he was different. She also loved that he loved his mother and wanted her to have warm feet.

“I know you didn’t, but some do. Want to share a small bottle of beer while we wait for dinner?”

“Is this another trick question?”

“We can share one now, and share another over dinner. That’s my limit. I’m working tonight.” He lifted the apron over his head and set it aside.

“Is that what you were doing yesterday when you disappeared?”

“I promised Hunt I’d check his place occasionally.”

He probably had, although given Hunter’s apartment was above his office and his trusted PA, Donna, would watch the place as if it was her own, Casildo hadn’t needed to do a bunk.

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