“Do you threaten to spank all your clients?” she asked, surprised by the surge of jealousy.
“Only the naughty ones.”
She stopped at a red light and gaped at him, unsure how to take that. He turned to her and winked. Was he joking then?
“And you’re not a client. I’m doing this for free.”
“What?”
“I’m owed some downtime.”
“You’re not doing this for free. I’m going to pay you.”
“Nope.”
She sighed as she pulled into her parking space. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a difficult man to reason with?”
“Nope.”
“And that talking in one word sentences is extremely frustrating for people trying to talk to you?”
“Yep.”
There was a definite twinkle in his eyes as he glanced over at her, and she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Chapter Six
Feeling slightly anxious, Reagan watched Tiny in her kitchen. She tapped her fingers against the countertop as he seasoned a tomato-based sauce then placed spaghetti into a boiling pot. Then he pulled a tray of muffins out of the oven. She’d been surprised when he’d added baking ingredients to the trolley during their grocery shop. But she’d gone along with it, telling herself she could easily clean up any messes he made. Everyone knew men weren’t good at cleaning up after themselves.
She was going to try to be accommodating while he was here, even if it killed her.
So when he’d insisted on cooking dinner, she’d only put up a small resistance. Now the apartment was filled with the scent of garlic and tomato, and her mouth was watering.
Tiny dished up the pasta. It was simple and looked and smelled delicious. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten lunch. She glanced over at Tiny to see if he’d heard, but he merely picked up their plates and carried them over to the dining table.
“Want some wine?” she asked, grabbing a bottle of red out of the cupboard.
He shook his head, and she poured herself a small glass. She didn’t drink much, but tonight she might need the added courage. She forced herself to ignore the small mess he’d left. She could eat and then clean up.
“Smells great. Where did you learn to cook?”
“My grandmother.”
Reagan spooned up a mouthful and nearly whimpered. “She must have been an amazing cook.”
“She was.”
She didn’t take offense to his short answers. “I never knew my grandparents. My mom’s parents died when she was young, and she was raised by a distant aunt. My dad had a fight with his parents when I was young. Not sure what it was about, but I never got to meet them. I think they died when I was in high school.”
Tiny remained silent, and she took it as her cue to keep talking.
“I never had anything to do with my other relatives. My parents weren’t exactly social creatures. We went to church, and sometimes we’d stay after services, and I’d play with a couple of the other kids. But that was rare. Most of the time it was just me, Mom, and Dad. Guess that’s why I have such trouble socially. I didn’t have much interaction with other people.”
She glanced back at the kitchen but forced herself to stay in her seat. Tiny studied her.
“You okay?”
“Yep.” She smiled at him tightly and forced herself to take another bite.