Chapter 66

The moment struck Yvonne as almost funny enough to make her laugh aloud. Still, wary of giving herself away,she stifled the laugh before it surfaced.

It was the first time she had seen Julian so utterly disarmed, robbed even of the ability to argue.

The rare image of him cornered brightened her mood instantly, and she eagerly echoed Rodger's words,nodding as if she were genuinely looking forward to the outcome.

In truth, what she anticipated wasn't tasting Julian's food but watching him fumble through the cooking process.She already knew the truth-his previous attempts had been disastrous, his dishes barely edible.

Julian caught their exchanged looks, the amusement in Rodger's voice, and the sparkle in Yvonne's eyes.With a sigh of resignation, he understood there was no way out this time. Yet strangely, when he noticed the glimmer of delight in her gaze, his resistance softened.

He slipped the pink apron over his broad shoulders, its cartoon cat face glaringly out of place on him, and stepped into the semi-open kitchen. The gleam of utensils lined up before him made him pause,wondering where to even begin.

Julian's idea of cooking amounted to tossing ingredients into a hot pan and hoping for the best. The array of polished tools laid out before him felt less like utensils and more like riddles he couldn't solve.

From the doorway, Yvonne rolled Rodger closer, the old man's eyes alight with mischief. "Yvonne, aren't you going to give him a hand?" he teased, his grin daring her to step in.

The kitchen, narrow and faintly scented with soap and spices, seemed exactly the kind of space where books claimed romance could bloom.

Yvonne lingered for a beat, then sighed softly and slipped inside.

Julian stood at the counter, frowning at a potato as if it had personally betrayed him. Three different peelers lined the board, each one an enigma. Why on earth did a simple potato need three separate tools? Just as his confusion deepened, a slender hand reached past him. Yvonne's voice, low and patient,brushed against his ear. "This one's for peeling, that one slices thin, and the last cuts it intochunks."

With those words, Yvonne slid the potato from his hand and began peeling in steady,quiet strokes.

Julian leaned closer, watching intently. Her lashes lowered in concentration, shadows softening her face wrapping her in a calm, almost delicate grace. Her slender fingers moved with practiced ease, ribbons of skin curling into a neat pile until only a smooth, clean potato remained.

She finally lifted her gaze and inquired,"Should I cut it into chunks?"

The question hung in the air just as he dipped his head. Their noses brushed in the faintest touch, a fleeting collision that startled them both into stillness.

For a suspended heartbeat, neither spoke.

In the kitchen, the most unexpected moments always had a way of unfolding.

Their hearts thudded like drums, pounding in a shared rhythm that blurred into one furious beat.

Yvonne broke first, retreating in a flurry of motion, her hands fumbling for another potato as if peeling it could mask the heat in her cheeks.

Julian coughed lightly, masking his own unrest, and reached for a second peeler, slicing into the potato he'd already stripped bare.

With their backs turned toward Rodger,Yvonne kept her gaze lowered and murmured in a voice meant only for Julian, "I think he's onto us. Why else would he suddenly start reading those books?"

Her suspicion seemed to explain everything-Rodger's careful stage-setting, the contrived chances for them to linger close, the intimate atmosphere he kept engineering around them.

Julian's voice dropped to a quiet murmur. "You're right."

For all his brusque manner, Rodger noticed everything. From the instant he suggested they linger at the Powell estate, Julian had understood the deeper reason. He never called it out, though.Maybe he hoped that by playing along, he might rebuild the bridge between himself and Yvonne.

That thought clouded his eyes. With a sudden sharpness in his voice, he remarked, "If that's true, then we'd better throw ourselves fully into the act, so Grandpa won't doubt us."

"What do you..." Yvonne began, but the words stuck in her throat. Her eyes flew wide as the potato and peeler slipped from her hands, the potato thudding softly against the floor.

Her palm pressed to the counter, her fingertips flexing and curling as if deciding whether to let go. Just then, a broad, steady hand slid over hers, threading their fingers together, holding her fast.

Julian eased back just enough for her to draw a shaky breath, then closed the distance again, deepening the kiss with sudden, unyielding intent.