Miss Understanding (The Miss Series Book 1)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  She broke my train of thought. “Time for you to knead the dough.”

  I found myself fascinated by how much effort went into making something I’d only ever bought from a box. That way, it could have been boiled by now. But I was also completely enthralled by how her eyes lit up with the task. It was clear this was her passion.

  “Really get in there. Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty.”

  My cock felt her statement. Little did I imagine cooking with Kendall would be seductive, but here I was trying to think of things to calm down the start of an erection.

  “What’s next?” I asked, my voice huskier than intended.

  “Ah, this is where we improvise a bit since I couldn’t find a rolling pin, and we don’t have a pasta maker.”

  She uncorked her bottle of red wine and chugged down the remainder. Christ. The action was so unexpected, I started to laugh. She grinned in return. “Classy, I know. Okay. Let me wash the bottle quickly.”

  “For what reason?”

  “To roll the dough. First, let’s cut the first blob into eight pieces.” She handed me a knife while I did as she instructed.

  “Okay. We have to keep the pasta we’re not working with moist.” She took a dampened towel and laid it over the pile of seven. “Now we roll as thin as we can.”

  It was very clear I sucked at it, but she was patient, showing me how to get the dough to the right consistency. I’d be lying if I said having the excuse of being this close to her wasn’t both heaven and hell. She smelled the way I imagined sunshine in a bottle would. Her long, brown hair was tied up in a messy bun. Her beautiful face was devoid of makeup except for her gloss. I could practically taste the strawberries from it.

  “Good. Now we slice it. It’ll puff up a bit, so we want thin strips.” She showed me, then let me have a try. This took a long time, yet the motions were weirdly soothing.

  “What’s next?” I asked after cutting all of it.

  “Seven more times with the remaining blobs.”

  I must’ve made a face.

  “It’s okay. I’ll do it. Can you get the large pot out of the drawer over there?” She pointed. “And fill it with water for me. Also, I need the large saucepan.”

  That I could do. I noticed how quickly she went about rolling out the remaining dough and deftly slicing up the noodles. It was weirdly arousing.

  I finished the tasks she’d requested. “What’s next? You want me to boil the water?”

  “Not yet. It’ll only take a couple minutes to boil fresh pasta, so we’ll wait until the sauce, chicken, and bread are done.”

  It sounded like quite the production. One I wasn’t sure I had time for.

  She flashed me an understanding smile. “You’ve more than humored me. I’ll finish if you want to get some more work done.”

  “You sure?” I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I did have a couple more hours’ worth of review to do.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  I went back to my laptop but moved it to the kitchen table to be closer to her. I didn’t know why. But it seemed natural to do so. However, I soon found myself distracted. Watching her again. “What are you doing with the chicken?”

  “Slicing it into strips. Then I’ll use salt and pepper and brown it in a pan with a bit of olive oil. To be honest, I don’t do a lot to the chicken. I sort of let the sauce and the noodles be the stars.”

  I could hear the sizzle and smell the meat. While it cooked, she poured something into the pan. “What is the sauce made from?” Forget it. Working wasn’t happening. Instead, I was absolutely fascinated with the woman in front of me and what she was doing.

  “Cream and butter. You melt them together, then add in the Parmesan. Salt and pepper. I also like a dash of nutmeg.”

  “Alfredo sauce is only made from those ingredients?”

  She smiled. “Yep. Sure is.”

  “Tell me what you do with the bread.”

  She smiled widely. “You back in?”

  “Yeah. I guess my stomach is curious to see this through.”

  “Think of it this way. After this lesson, you’ll have your perfect date-night meal to impress someone.”

  Not that I took much time for dating, let alone making homemade meals. “My dates would probably prefer to be taken out to an expensive restaurant.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say something but then stopped.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Haven’t we passed the point of you holding back? You’re aware of my painful childhood. I know you moonlight at a rowdy nightclub.”

  Her blush was worth the teasing. “I just think most women would appreciate the time spent on them rather than the money.”

  I met her gaze. “I think you’re probably not like most women, then.”

  She stepped back and got something out of the refrigerator. “What’s your mom doing tonight?”

  “She’s having dinner with some of her church friends. I’m going over there tomorrow.”

  “You’re welcome to invite her over here tomorrow night instead. I’m guessing it probably isn’t easy for you to go to the house.”

  The fact she understood my struggle took me off guard. So did her offer. “I appreciate it. Maybe she can come over. But please don’t feel like you need to cook. I think you’ve fed enough of my family.”

  “We can order pizzas. I can go check out the Tazewell night life to leave you some time alone.”

  “No. I meant I’d rather you stay. If it’s not too uncomfortable for you.”

  “It’s not uncomfortable. Your mom reminds me of my nan. She likes to relive the good old days, too. Some of it I’m sure has been altered with rose-colored glasses.”

  “Where does your nan live?”

  “Orange County. Near Anaheim. She’s in an assisted living facility. Unfortunately, in addition to her diabetes, she has trouble remembering some things. It’s not a great combination regarding taking her medication.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is. Your parents live nearby?”

  “Yep. Only a few miles away from the center. I go to visit every Sunday.”

  Guilt hit me. “I’m sorry you missed seeing your family yesterday.”

  She regarded me curiously. “It’s okay. I FaceTimed her, and we watched an episode of Little House on the Prairie. My roommate went by to see her, too. And I’ll see her next Sunday, and we’ll have the whole day. She’s who I got the love of cooking from. I remember countless hours she would teach me when I was little.”

  I could almost picture her in pigtails up on a step stool absorbing every word. “You seem close with your family.”

  “I am. Probably why I only moved, like, twenty-five miles north of them.”

  I couldn’t imagine living so close. Even as much as I loved my sister and mother. Guess I’d been gone too long to want to be part of everyday family activities.

  The questions kept coming up in my mind. Now that I was getting to know her better, I found I didn’t want to stop.

  “You’re an only child?”

  “I am.”

  “And you’re going to school for business administration, but your true passion is cooking?”

  She shrugged. “The firm agreed to help with tuition if I chose a degree in line with their purposes. Business administration fit the bill. Culinary school did not.”

  “Then what is your goal after school?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You should have a goal.” The very thought of her not having one baffled me. I’d always focused on goals. Even now, I had my next goal in mind. The next rung on the ladder was always something to strive for.

  “I’ll get there eventually, but for now, I don’t have a plan.”

  “But you mentioned quitting in a few months.”

  Her face turned red. She removed the sauce from the burner, then turned it on high for the water. She also moved the chicken onto a cutting board. “That was my anger talking.
Truthfully, I don’t know when I’ll leave. The law firm is steady and has good benefits. Why? Were you hoping it would be sooner?”

  Yes, because the lines were getting blurred. And no, because I liked how good she was at her job. Not to mention, I already knew I’d miss her. “No. The last thing I want is to have someone new.”

  “There’s still a possibility I might have to support another partner. At least it’s what I was told after my transfer from Mike’s team.”

  Most of the partners shared their secretary with at least one other partner, but so far I’d made the case for having mine support me full-time.

  “I know. But if he does anything inappropriate like the last one, you need to come to me.”

  I already had a call with the managing partner scheduled for tomorrow to discuss my issue with Mike.

  “Yeah. I will. Thank you.”

  This. This was reason one hundred eighty-nine I could not possibly entertain the idea of getting involved with her. Forget my hard line about being involved with someone I worked with. She’d been harassed by her last boss. She didn’t need her new one entertaining inappropriate thoughts.

  “What do you need the extra money for? Working weekends at the club?”

  Kendall made a good salary at the firm, and given she had a roommate, I wondered why she needed another job.

  “School and stuff.”

  She averted her eyes as she answered. Something wasn’t adding up. The firm helped her with school tuition. I was getting the hum I got when I started asking questions and discovered there was something I wanted to dig into.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kendall

  Why did I feel like I was at trial being cross-examined? Probably because I had one of the best in the business asking me questions. I didn’t mind sharing some personal details with Liam, as I was glad he was interested, but I certainly wasn’t about to spill all my secrets.

  “So once school is over in a few months, you’ll be able to quit your job bartending?”

  Definitely not, but I didn’t want to get into the reasons. “Uh. No. I actually enjoy it. Gets me out of my apartment. Otherwise, I think I’d be a homebody all the time.”

  “What do your parents do?”

  “Oh.” I was surprised he cared to know. “My dad works part-time on a factory line. He had a heart attack a couple years ago, so he’s slowed down a bit. My mom is a teacher.” She also cleaned houses on weekends, but I kept the news to myself.

  “And your grandmother. What did she used to do?”

  “She was a stay-at-home mom. My grandfather was a police officer. He passed away about five years ago.”

  “And the facility your grandmother lives in is called?”

  “It’s a Sunrise Living Facility. It’s nice. Convenient to where my parents live.”

  I busied myself with melting the butter in the microwave and grabbing the French bread.

  “Are you helping to pay for her care?” His voice was soft and knowing.

  I simply stared at him. “I feel like you may have led the witness.”

  He smiled. “Sorry. It’s a bad habit when I think someone is hiding something.”

  My shoulders drooped. “Not even my parents know.”

  His forehead crinkled. “How is that possible?”

  “I pay the facility directly, and the administrator bills the difference to my parents. I only pitch in two thousand a month.”

  “How much is the care?”

  “Five thousand a month. My grandfather’s pension and social security pays some. My parents pay the rest.”

  “Why lie to them about it?”

  “I don’t like to think of it as a lie. But I do it because my parents would never dream of having me help. Pride and all that. And I couldn’t stand having my nan in a cheaper facility, further away from us.”

  “Why didn’t you simply tell me?”

  “Because talking about money makes me feel weird. If someone is complaining about it, then it feels to me like they’re asking for some. I make a fair salary at the law firm.” The only other person who knew I paid for my grandmother’s care was my roommate, Chloe. If anyone understood having to help out with the family, it was her. She, too, had to supplement her family’s finances.

  He gave me a quick glance, stirring the sauce. As if he knew how important my admission was, he reassured me. “I won’t tell anyone, just like I trust anything I’ve confided in you won’t be repeated.”

  “No. Never.” I knew how the gossip mills worked at the firm. I’d take it to my grave. “The water is boiling. Let’s put in our homemade pasta.”

  After everything was cooked, we sat down at the table in silence. I held my breath and watched Liam’s expression when he took his first bite.

  He closed his eyes and made a humming sound in his throat. “Jesus, this is good.”

  My grin was the stupid, silly kind. “You helped. So thank you.” I took my own bite and was immediately assaulted with the rich flavors. “Nothing beats homemade pasta. I especially love making ravioli or gnocchi.”

  “If you ever decide to be a personal chef, please let me be your first client. I may have to up my gym routine, but I think it would be worth it.”

  He had no idea how much his words meant to me. “Thank you.”

  He let out a sigh and changed the subject back to his favorite: work. “Tomorrow I need to focus on billing. I can’t put it off any longer this month.”

  He did have a number of clients for whom we needed to get bills out the door. “What if I take a crack at it? Since they’re Word documents, I’ll do everything in Track Changes, and you can accept or not. Then you can focus fully on the deposition.”

  “Sure. I’d appreciate it. Also I have four calls tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I saw that on your calendar. Do you need anything for them?”

  “No. Thank you. I think I’m good.”

  My mind was having trouble catching up with the turn of events. He was acting reasonable, and I was no longer thinking of ways for him to suffer.

  The only problem was that now I was no longer thinking of him as an asshole, I was just left thinking about him period.

  I was exhausted by Tuesday night. It had been another fourteen-hour workday. But at least it had been productive. For once I was glad not to be cooking. Instead Liam went out to pick up pizza in preparation for his mom coming over. I quickly vacuumed, only stopping when he came in holding two pizzas and a bag.

  He was frowning.

  “Everything okay?”

  “You don’t need to clean.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure, I do. Your mom is coming over, and there was some dirt on the carpet from us getting wood.” I flipped the on switch on the ancient upright only to be shocked when he took it from me.

  “Then, let me do it. You’re off the clock.”

  The vacuuming really seemed to bother him. I went to get the pizzas he’d put on the table only to have him frown again. “Leave them. I can heat a pizza.”

  “Okay, then.” I decided to go back to my bedroom and change into jeans. The knock came just as I’d buttoned them up.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  Liam opened the door but stood in the frame. “I didn’t mean you needed to leave. But it bothered me to see you cleaning.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you do enough for me. You don’t need to go and clean for my mother coming over.”

  My lips parted in surprise.

  “Anyhow, you’re welcome to join us for dinner. I bought more wine.”

  My lips curved up into a smile. “Red?”

  “One Pinot Noir and another Malbec.”

  “My hero.” We exchanged grins which made my stomach flutter. With us getting along, that sort of thing was happening more often.

  An hour later once his mother arrived, we sat down to a pizza dinner. “You took care of the catering for the funeral reception?” she asked him.

  “Yes. Kendall found a place
out of Blacksburg to cater it.”

  “Good. But I hope the snow doesn’t interfere.”

  “Snow?” we both said at the same time.

  “Yes. But it’ll probably only be a couple of inches like the last one.”

  Thank goodness.

  “Liam, I’d like you to go down to the mortuary tomorrow morning to at least see your father one last time before the body is released.”

  His entire body stiffened with her words. His voice was flat and monotone when he spoke. “I thought he was being cremated.”

  “He is. But I think you should at least make peace with him before that happens.”

  “I’ve made my peace, Mother.”

  “Please. For me.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She clasped her son’s hand. “It would make me happy. So very happy.”

  After his mother left, Liam cleaned up the kitchen without a word.

  I decided to leave him to his thoughts despite the urge to comfort him. I’d already made the mistake of asking him if he was okay and been snapped at in return. It wouldn’t be worth risking our truce to ask a second time.

  I heard the sound of his footsteps climbing the stairs around ten while I lay in my bed. Deciding to grab some water then, I puttered out to the living room in my LA Ram’s jersey. Considering it hung to my knees, it was more than modest. Still, I wasn’t prepared to face Liam. But when I opened the refrigerator, its light showed him sitting at the table. He had a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

  “Oh, God, you startled me. I thought you’d gone to bed.”

  “It was warmer down here with the woodstove.” His eyes roamed over my jersey and bare legs.

  “Yeah, I guess it is. Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

  “Not with you dressed like that I don’t.”

  I sucked in a breath. “I’ll go put on pants.” Rushing down the hall, I could feel my skin heat at the way he’d responded. Not like he was offended but almost like he was tempted.