The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (8 page)

I didn’t turn to see, but I could hear him moving around the kitchen. “Look,” he said. “You haven’t even started cooking the steaks yet. And they’re always the most important. What’s in here?”
 

At the exact moment he spoke, I remembered. “The asparagus.” I lunged for the pot on the stove and lifted the lid to see what was supposed to be bright green, only slightly crisp asparagus had become a mushy, green mess.
 

***

Reid knew she was going to cry. She was displaying all the telltale signs. The frequent blinking, the shiny eyes that kept glancing away, the strained voice.
 

Damn. It’s not that he couldn’t handle a woman in tears; he’d had plenty of practice with Lizzy, after all. No, he could handle it, but it was easier for everyone involved if he could prevent it from happening. Especially if they didn’t want any awkwardness between them. And it was never a good idea to start a living arrangement with awkwardness.
 

“Hey,” Reid said. He grabbed the tongs again and picked up a soggy piece of asparagus. “See? It’s not so bad.” They both watched as the vegetable slipped from his grasp and slopped onto the counter with an undignified splat. “Okay, forget the asparagus,” he said. “Nobody likes it, anyway. And it makes your pee smell funny.”

To his surprise, Whitney smiled. She was beautiful when she smiled.

“It’s true,” he said, trying not to get distracted. “Especially guys. And didn’t you say you had a date?” He swallowed hard so he wouldn’t choke on the last word. Whitney nodded, the small smile still on her face, so Reid continued, “Perfect. You’ve still got the steak, and all men really care about is the meat. If you ask me, serving only a piece of red meat is the perfect meal.”

He offered her his goofiest grin and leaned back against the counter.
 

Whitney sniffed hard and buried her face into a dish towel.
 

“Oh, no.” Reid stood up but wasn’t sure if he should go to her or stay put. “Whitney, don’t cry. Really. It’s just a few shrimp, and some stupid green vegetables. I swear, it’s nothing to get upset about, I—”

“I’m not crying.” She lowered the towel and he could see that although her mascara had smeared, and her cheeks were suspiciously wet, she definitely didn’t look upset. But she was looking at him with a strange expression and that smile he thought was super cute but still hadn’t seen enough of. “Well, not really,” she said. “It’s a really stupid and totally embarrassing trait, but I tend to leak when I get overwhelmed or frustrated.”

“Leak?” Reid raised an eyebrow at her. “You mean, like cry?”

She wiped her face again with the towel and tossed it in his direction. “No, I mean leak. It’s not like I’m really upset, I just have an emotional spillover or something.” Whitney waved his question away. “It’s annoying, really. Forget about it.” She took a deep breath. “But this is a problem.” Whitney gestured to the mess on the counter. “What am I supposed to serve William? I promised him a homecooked meal and he already thinks I can’t cook.”

“Well, he’d be—” Whitney gave him a look that challenged him to finish his sentence, but Reid wasn’t dumb. It was never a good idea to provoke a woman already on the verge. And he definitely didn’t want to make her leak again. “How about I help you? I’m actually pretty good in the kitchen and we should have enough here to salvage dinner,” he said instead.

Whitney agreed without hesitation, not that she had a whole lot of choices left, and Reid quickly took command of the situation. He’d meant it when he told her he could save things, and really, a few burnt shrimp and some soggy asparagus wasn’t the end of the world.
 

Reid dug up some carrots and set Whitney to work slicing them while he seared the steaks and put them in the oven. He bit his tongue to keep from commenting on her knife skills. She concentrated so intently on cutting each piece of carrot, Reid was afraid dinner would never be ready. Eventually, she finished and put them in a steaming basket on the stove.
 

“Now what?” she asked and looked around, her eyes widening as she took in the kitchen. Reid had finished cleaning up the mess while she’d been focused on butchering the carrots. “You cleaned? I didn’t even notice. Thank you.”

“Well, you were pretty busy with those carrots,” Reid said with a laugh. “It’s no big deal. I’m glad to help.” He held her gaze for a second before looking away. “So, we should probably get started with the sauce. I’m assuming because of the shrimp, you were trying to make some sort of steak Oscar dish?”

Whitney nodded.
 

“How do you feel about crab meat instead?” Reid asked. He produced a can of crab meat he’d found in the cupboard. “I know it’s not fresh, but…”

“It’s perfect. I didn’t know I had that. It must have been Grams’. She really did all the cooking.”

“You don’t say?” Whitney swatted him with the dish towel she’d been wiping her hands with, but didn’t say anything. Reid was pretty sure he’d detected the hint of a smile. An honest smile. Maybe it wouldn’t take as long for Whitney to warm up to the idea of being roommates after all. “Don’t worry, Whitney,” he said. “I promise to teach you to cook.”

Her mouth pressed into a hard line and Reid instantly regretted pushing too hard.
 

“I need to make the sauce,” she said, and turned toward the pile of ingredients on the counter.
 

“Right.” It was clear that despite a light moment, she still wasn’t ready to welcome him with open arms. “Have you made hollandaise before?”
 

He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but when Whitney nodded and told him she had, he was genuinely shocked, especially when he watched her crack three eggs directly into a saucepan without separating the yolk. “Okay,” Reid said. “Then I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

Whitney looked up from her task and for a moment Reid thought he might have seen a look of panic flash across her face, but it was gone so fast he couldn’t be sure. “Remember you need to be gone by seven,” she said.
 

Gone? Crap. He’d forgotten he was supposed to leave. “Right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “About that. The thing is—” He broke off as Whitney cracked the third egg in with the others and began mixing it with a wooden spoon. “What are you doing?”

She shot him a look of irritation. “I’m making hollandaise.”
 

He moved to the counter, grabbed a metal whisk from the vase that held various kitchen implements, and gently took the bowl from her hands. “May I?”
 

She put her hands on her hips but didn’t protest.
 

Reid swiftly dumped the contents of the saucepan in the sink and grabbed the package of eggs. “The problem is,” he said as he deftly cracked an egg and separated it into two parts, “that you only need the yolks to create a rich sauce.” He continued the process with two other eggs and put the pan over low heat. “Can you melt that butter in the microwave?”

Whitney surprised Reid by doing as he requested without an argument. When it was ready, Reid took the bowl from her and slowly started pouring the butter into the eggs that were heating on the stove. “This is the tricky part,” he said. “You have to add it really slowly and never stop whisking or it will separate.” He put the butter down and handed her the whisk. “You try.”
 

Whitney took the whisk and picked up the butter. “I don’t know if I’m coordinated enough to do both,” she said.

Reid reached around her and held the saucepan while he placed the other hand over hers on the whisk to help her. He felt her tense briefly at their closeness, but then, occupied with the task of whisking, she relaxed. “See,” he said, trying not to inhale the sweet smell of her shampoo, “you’re doing great. Just keep going. Really slowly.”

“How’s it look?” Whitney glanced up, over her shoulder and their eyes connected.
 

“It looks pretty cozy to me,” said the voice behind them.
 

***

I flung around so fast, hollandaise droplets flew from the whisk in my hand and splattered on the fridge, the tile floor, and Reid, who wiped it from his t-shirt with his finger, tasted it and raised his eyebrows in approval. I would have laughed if William hadn’t been standing in the doorway, looking confused and more than just a little pissed off.
 

“William.” I tossed the whisk on the counter and went to him. I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around my waist in an unusually protective and jealous move. William didn’t do public affection.

“Looks like I interrupted something,” he said. I didn’t miss the look he shot in Reid’s direction. In nine months of dating, I’d never seen William look even remotely jealous before. But by the way he stared down my new roommate, it didn’t look like things were going to get off on the right foot between them.
 

In an effort to dissolve the tension before it got out of hand, I took William’s hand and made the introductions. “This is Reid.” I waved in Reid’s direction, and he nodded and offered his hand. William, ever the picture of perfect manners, reluctantly reached out to take the proffered hand, when I added, “My new roommate.”
 

He dropped his hand, leaving Reid hanging. William shrugged and leaned against the counter, tucking his hand into the front pocket of his perfectly ironed khakis. “Your what?” He glanced between the two of us before his gaze landed on me. His eyes were narrow and one eyebrow was arched in a slightly evil doctor type of way.
 

Clearly my plans for breaking the news gently over dinner weren’t panning out the way I’d hoped. Time for plan B. Except I didn’t have a plan B. “That’s what I was going to tell you, William.” I used my calmest voice and took his hand.
 

“She was going to tell you all about it over this dinner that she’s cooking you,” Reid said. He strode over to the stove and removed the sauce from the heat. “I was just helping out with a few of the details.” While I watched, Reid added lemon juice to the hollandaise. I didn’t even know I was supposed to put lemon juice in it. He took a quick peek in the oven before turning back to us. I dared to glance over at William, who no longer looked angry, just very suspicious. I couldn’t be sure which was worse. “Everything’s almost ready,” Reid said, drawing my attention back to him. “Why don’t the two of you take the wine and go sit down in the dining room? I’ll bring everything out in a minute.”

“You don’t have to do that.”
 

“I want to, Whitney.” His smile was so sincere, I had no choice but to accept. Besides, all three of us knew if I finished up the cooking, we’d be ordering pizza.
 

I took William, who followed without argument, into the dining room and quickly pulled a tablecloth, cutlery, and some of Grams’ china from the hutch while he opened the wine and poured us each a glass. When the hastily set table was laid out, I sat across from my boyfriend, who still hadn’t said anything. William looked well put together as usual and was in his relaxing clothes, which for him meant he’d taken off his tie. Of course, our idea of relaxation clothes was very different. I’d never seen him in jeans, not one time in the last nine months. I even bought him a pair for his birthday but I secretly think he returned them because I’d never seen him wearing them.

Looking down at my own outfit which was covered with the evidence from my attempt at cooking, I felt shabby and underdressed. “This is kind of nice,” I said in a weak effort to lighten the mood.
 

William crossed his arms in front of him on the table. “Were you going to tell me about this roommate situation?”
 

There was no point in playing dumb. I sat up straight and got right to it. “I only found out about it myself earlier today. Grams made the decision without even consulting with me. There’s not really a lot I can do about it.”
 

“Yes, there is,” William said. “Tell him to get out. It’s your house.”

I looked down at the table top and picked at the tines of the fork. “That’s the thing,” I said. “It’s not my house. It still belongs to Grams. William, I would if I could, but I can’t tell him to leave. Besides, I really could use the extra money. I now it’s not an ideal situation but—”

“No, not at all. Especially with you at Glenmore Academy.”
 

I swallowed a mouthful of wine. “I know you said the faculty was held to a higher standard and—”

“A much higher standard.”

“Yes, a much higher standard,” I repeated. “But I’m just a substitute. I didn’t think the rules would apply to me. It’s not like I’m actually on staff.”
 

William spun the stem of his glass between his fingers. A small smile moved across his face. “Well, I was going to tell you the good news tonight,” he said. “But I might as well tell you now. Glenmore Academy is considering you for that contract position I was telling you about.”

I almost knocked my chair over when I jumped up. “William. That’s amazing. Really? When did you find out? Why haven’t I heard anything yet?”

“Settle down.” He smiled and waved me back to my seat, but I couldn’t sit. Subbing was good and all, but to get a contract position at a school like Glenmore Academy would be amazing. Not to mention the paycheck.
 

“It’s not official yet,” William said. “And with your new living situation,” he waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen, “I don’t think the board will like it,” he finished.

I sank into my seat. “The board?”

“Since it’s a private school, and a very prestigious one.” William paused the way he always did on the word prestigious. I tried not to roll my eyes as he continued. “All the hiring decisions are made by the board of directors,” he said, and took a slow sip of his wine. “And they’re a very conservative group. The school has a certain reputation to uphold and the faculty has a responsibility to the students to set only the finest example.”

“Surely they wouldn’t deny my application because I have a roommate.” A shiver ran down my spine and I shook my head. “No,” I said. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I’m living with you and we’re an unmarried couple. I just have a roommate.”