Page 25 of All Wrong
She straightened and glanced over her shoulderto find him peering with interest at the meal prep containers taking up most of her shelf space. Fifteen of them, to be exact, neatly stacked and labeled—three for each day of the workweek.
“A week,” she corrected. “I cook ahead to save myself time.”
“Aren’t you proactive?” he murmured, but it was impossible to tell whether it was said with disdain or if he was impressed.
“It also means I can’t use lack of time or convenience as an excuse to hit the drive-through,” she added. She handed him a bottled water and closed the door. His lips were doing a ghost-curl thing that was, quite frankly, panty-melting.
“Yet you felt compelled to walk to a store three miles away for snacks.” There was definite mockery in his tone that time, but not the hurtful kind.
“It’s because I eat healthy most of the time that I can afford a cheat day now and then, especially if it involves walking six miles,” she said with a sniff. “Although technically, it was only three since I walkedtothe store and not home. Do you like ice cream?”
He blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I don’t know. You might have a dairy intolerance or something.”
“I don’t.”
She bent down and opened her freezer drawer, extracting two cartons. Again, she felt his gaze on her ass. Admittedly, dance classes kept her in good shape, and the stretchy yoga pants did flatter her figure. “Hand-churned vanilla bean or chocolate marshmallow?”
“I like both.”
“You’re right. Why choose?” She put the tubs on the counter, then grabbed two bowls and put a scoop of each into each of them.
She handed him a bowl, then moved toward the living area. Sitting on the couch, she toed off her sneakers and kick-flung them over into the corner with practiced skill.
He sat at the other end, leaving a good two feet between them. She tucked one leg beneath the other and turned to face him.
Nick waved at the junk fest. “So, what prompted the binge?”
“Maybe I felt like eating my weight in empty calories tonight.”
He laughed softly, and his dark chuckle was more decadent than the hand-churned dairygoodness. “You can just tell me to mind my own business.”
She could. She should. She was used to handling her own problems, and while she had known him for a long time, they weren’t close.
“It’s been one of those weeks, you know? And I don’t expect this next one to be any better.”
“Why?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Wouldn’t have asked unless I did.”
He seemed sincere. Those clear eyes of his were set on her expectantly, his expression carefully guarded, as usual, but mildly curious too. Was this his way of apologizing for being so cool to her earlier? Or maybe a form of payback, one good deed for another?
Either way, she found herself answering him. “Right. Well, I found out yesterday morning that I was passed over for a promotion at the bank, one that I should have been a shoo-in for. I’ve been there for ten years. They gave it to someone who’s been there forone.”
He tilted his head. “Why?”
“Shot in the dark? Because she’s young and beautiful and eager to please,” Corinne said, bitternesslacing her tone. “Which wouldn’t be a bad thingifshe did her job, but she doesn’t.”
And with Becci now elevated in the bank’s hierarchy, Corinne suspected her job was going to get harder.
“That’s why you were late to the fair yesterday.”
A tiny spark lit deep in her chest. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
He shrugged. “Your sister kept looking at her phone, like she was worried about you making it.”
