“Don’t be ridiculous. Caviar is disgusting.” His nose twitches and I find it adorable.
Adorable? I internally groan.
“Well, maybe you should spend a day working at a homeless shelter. Maybe you’d think twice about walking around in shoes worth more than someone’s rent.”
“I didn’t think my question would turn into an inquisition.”
I shrug. “You asked. I answered.”
“That’s all you would do with your endless amount of funds? Donate it?”
I laugh to myself. “Not all of it. I’d save some for myself and buy first edition copies of all my favorite books.”
“Books.” He looks up at the ceiling like God might intervene. “What about your pins? Wouldn’t you want to buy more of those?”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
His brows pull together. “You wouldn’t buy more pins?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not how it works.”
“Then how does it work?”
I sigh. “It’s a long story.”
He looks around the empty kitchen. “And? All we have is time.”
My muscles tighten. “And that’s not something I want to share with you,” I snap.
Shit. My eyes widen and my mouth pops open, but I stop myself from apologizing.
His entire forehead scrunches. “I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”
I’m not sure if it’s me or my imagination, but the air between us grows heavy until I look away first. “It’s…just not something I talk about with many people.” Or anyone besides my family and Claire.
“Got it.”
No. He really doesn’t but I’m not going to unleash that story. There’s no way someone like him would understand someone like me. He’s put together, and I’m—was…broken.
But not anymore. You’re better now. Stronger.
I uncap a permanent marker and move toward the stem of the pumpkin.
“Put the weapon down.” Rowan’s hand reaches out and halts my movement, sending a wave of electricity up my arm.
His joke breaks the tension between us.
“Out of everything on the counter, this is a weapon?” I point at the knife only a few inches away from him.
“It is when you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Excuse me? I won our apartment pumpkin-carving contest last year.”
He raises a brow.
“Okay, well that’s a stretch, but I did receive an honorable mention. They gave me a ribbon and everything.”
He throws his head back and laughs. It’s the best kind of laugh—rough with a hint of a wheeze. As if he can’t take in enough oxygen to support such a rare event. I let the sound wash over me, and all I can think about is how I can get him to do that again.
His eyes open and he startles. “What?”
“Who are you, and what did you do with the real Rowan?”
His brows pull together. “What are you talking about?”
I fumble for my phone. “Could you do that thing again?”
“Laugh?”
“Yes. I need to catch it on camera this time.”