She swallowed heavily. “And who are you? What do you do?”
His grin widened. “I’m the guy who’s going to test out this cooking.”
“Fuck,” she muttered to herself.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Good. Just a word of warning, my brother doesn’t like his staff to swear. Especially not his female staff. He’s old-fashioned.”
“Your brother?”
“I assume that’s who hired you?”
“Oh, yes, your brother. Uh-huh.” She nodded her head like an idiot. Was this guy one of the three Bjorn brothers then? But that wasn’t possible, right? Unless he was related to them? Maybe he lived here and took care of the place?
Crap. What was she going to do? Because she seemed to be digging herself a bigger and bigger hole. Even worse, she got the feeling this guy was just playing with her, waiting for the moment when he would give her a little nudge, and she’d bury herself in that hole.
“It’s nearly dinner time what are you cooking?”
“Cooking?”
“You are the cook, right?”
He was now looking at her like he thought she might be a few beers short of a six-pack. Which was kind of on par with how she was feeling.
“You want me to cook dinner?”
“I figured that was in your job description? That you’d actually need to cook?”
That would make sense. If she damn well knew how to cook. Oh, God, why didn’t she tell him she was the maid?
She cleared her throat. “Broccoli.”
“Broccoli? That’s all? Just Broccoli? ’Cause I got to tell you, I’m a growing man. Broccoli alone isn’t going to put hairs on my chest.”
Did he have hairs on his chest? Or was he completely smooth? And, oh, crap, why did she want to take a peek so badly?
“Of course, I’m not cooking just broccoli. Meat and potatoes too.”
“Now we’re talking.” He just stood there. “Well?”
“Well . . .”
“You know, honey, you’re not inspiring much confidence in your cooking abilities. Are you sure that’s what my brother hired you for?”
“What else would he have hired me for?”
He took a few steps forward. “Oh, I don’t know. I could think of a few things.”
Was he flirting with her? Thanks to Carlin and his overprotectiveness, she didn’t have a clue what to do with a man like this. She was so beyond her comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny.
Surely, he wasn’t attracted to her? She was wearing a hoodie that swamped her small frame and an old ball cap of her dad’s.
She licked her lips and resisted the urge to step back. Instinct told her that he’d like that. He was trying to intimidate her. Well, she’d lived with scary-ass, intimidating men all her life. Sure, they weren’t as attractive as this guy and they had a great fear of torture and death in their near future if they dared touch her, but she refused to be intimidated by him. Much.
“If you’ll leave, I’ll get on with the cooking.” She searched for something. A weapon. Anything. She noticed some cooking pans stacked neatly a few shelves back. She retreated a step. He followed. He was so close she caught his scent. Masculine. Woodsy. Sexy as fuck.