Emma threw on sweatpants and a loose blouse, heading back to the kitchen where Ace was furiously scrubbing grime from the cupboards and walls. Emma started on all the trash, moving the many bags to the door, and gathering up any loose pieces. Once that was done, she gave the living room a good vacuum. Then she stood back and admired her work.
“What are you doing?” Ace asked, sticking his head out of the bathroom. There was a lovely, crisp scent coming from inside, like lemons.
“Oh, just checking out my good work.”
Ace sighed, coming out to the lounge area. He went to the edge of her chair and lifted it.
“Whoa,” she exclaimed as she saw the space under the chair. “I didn’t know my carpet was that blue.”
“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” he snapped. “Because you haven’t cleaned it properly in forever. So, get your ass in gear. Move the furniture and clean under it, and don’t stop until the carpet is all the same color.”
Emma nodded, setting herself to the task. Several more times, Ace came to stand behind her, telling her that she wasn’t being thorough enough. Instead of being overwhelmed ... as she often did while trying to clean ... she found it easy to focus on each job so long as she took it one step at a time and didn’t think about the big picture.
It was comforting having Ace tell her what to do, as well. She’d always been so passive that cleaning up her personal space looked like an impossible job, and it probably would have stayed that way without him to show her the way.
A few hours later, Ace declared they were done. Emma was sore and tired, but she felt a tremendous sense of achievement. It was as if she could breathe easier with the clutter gone, and the gleaming surfaces gave her a steady glow of accomplishment.
“You’ve done really well,” Ace said, coming to stand next to her. “I think you’ve been a very good girl, and now I’d like to reward you.”
Emma froze. Adrenaline was flooding through her. Just a few seconds ago, she’d thought she was too tired to do anything else for the rest of the day ... now she was having some very enthusiastic fantasies.
She turned to look at Ace, her eyes wide. Emma couldn’t help trembling a little.
What’s going to happen? Will he grab me? Kiss me? Or will he throw me on the sofa and feel me up first? What does he really want?
Ace stared at her for a few seconds more, his grin becoming more amused by the second. It was as if he was reading her thoughts, and she didn’t even care.
Ace laughed softly, tilting his head back. She liked his face even more when he smiled with genuine pleasure. She wondered when he’d last had fun ... real fun. He seemed so serious.
“I meant, I’m going to cook you dinner. I think that’s a good treat; don’t you think so too?”
“Oh. Well, sure,” she said, trying to cover her disappointment. He laughed again, and it warmed Emma’s heart that she could make him smile like that.
“Don’t worry,” he said, winking at her. “There might be time for other things later on.”
Emma didn’t know if he was serious or not. The worst thing was she didn’t even know what she really wanted. Every drop of common sense in her told her to run. So why did her heart say stay?
Chapter9
Ace
Emma didn’t have much in her kitchen, but Ace was creative. Her freezer was stocked with vegetables and steak, and he found pasta and sauce in the cupboards. It likely had been forgotten as it was all approaching its use-by date.
“Do you cook much?” he asked, trying to hide his sarcasm.
“Oh, no.” She laughed, not even noticing his tone. “I usually order out, as you can probably tell by all the takeout cartons we cleaned up. I just walk through the grocery store sometimes and buy a few things, hoping inspiration will strike me and I’ll cook something decent.”
“Hmm,” Ace said, stirring pasta sauce and seasoning vegetables at the same time. “Flip that steak, would you?” he pointed at the frying pan.
Emma did, managing to turn the meat without creating a disaster. It would be a surprisingly nutritious meal, even though she didn’t have anything in the way of fresh ingredients. It was a good thing he was talented with spices.
“So, where did you learn to cook like this?” she asked.
Ace laughed. “My grandmother. Well, and my mother and auntie, really. There’s this thing with Italian women. When you’re too young to do a man’s work, sometimes you end up in the kitchen. There’s a lot of people to feed, so you can’t get out of there without learning something.”
He leaned over and sampled the pesto sauce. It was very good, even though he’d made it from a months-old jar of crushed herbs and a hard chunk of butter he’d found in the back of the fridge.
“Try it,” he said, holding the spoon out to her. She lapped delicately at the sauce, and he was so distracted by her lips and tongue that he almost dropped the damn thing on the floor.