“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
“I’m drawing a blank.” He spreads his thighs, and one of them brushes up against mine.
I shoot him a glare as I lift my fork. “Touch my leg again and I’ll be forced to take physical action.”
His head drops back. Declan’s laugh is a weapon of mass seduction, and I’m its biggest target. It’s rough and unpracticed, and it makes a tingle shoot down my spine.
I melt into the stool, allowing the sound to wash over me like a warm summer day. A sense of pride hits me at making someone like him laugh like this in the first place, given just how much he resists it. It feels like my own kind of superpower and a secret I plan on protecting.
Declan sobers, snapping back into reality as he takes a bite of his dinner.
“How is it?”
“Tastes like it came out of a box.”
I laugh. “I’ve never been much of a cook. By the time I get home usually, I’m lucky if I’m motivated to boil some water.”
“I could cook tomorrow if you’re interested.”
My mouth drops open. Is this conversation even really happening?
“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook.”
“Imagine if I didn’t. I’d be eating boiled noodles for the rest of my life like someone I know.”
“Three years.”
His brows pull together. “What?”
“For the next three years. Not your life.”
“Right.” His voice is devoid of emotion.
I nudge him with my elbow. “ButI’ll still take you up on dinner tomorrow. I don’t think I could stomach another night of pasta anyway.”
“Out of all the things you could use me for, you go with my cooking skills?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s not like you have much else going for you.” My comment earns me a death glare.
“You sure know how to make a man feel special.” His lips curve, throwing me back to the night when our whole lives changed.
“Special is the last word I would use to describe you,” I repeat his words from our engagement party back at him.
His gaze holds mine hostage. “What word would you use then?”
“It’s improper.”
“All the better.”
I shake my head. “I’ll pass.”
“Then ask me what word I would use to describe you.”
I really shouldn’t, but curiosity wins out. “Fine. What word?”
There’s something about the way he looks at me when he says it that makes butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Yuánfèn.”
I blink. “I’m sorry. Was that evenEnglish?” I’m already at a severe disadvantage when it comes to the language I speak every day, let alone foreign ones.