The Undoing of de Luca
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‘I’m sorry.’
Ellery whirled around, her thoughts lending the movement a certain fury. Larenz stood in the doorway of the kitchen; he’d removed his boots and there was something almost endearing about seeing him in his socks. One of them sported a hole in the toe.
‘You’re sorry?’ she repeated, as if the words didn’t make sense. They didn’t really, coming from Larenz. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t be giving you advice. It’s none of my business.’
Ellery stared at him; his eyes had darkened to navy and he looked both serious and contrite. The sudden about-face disconcerted her, made her wonder about her own assumptions. Now she was left speechless and uncertain, not sure if his words were sincere.
‘Thank you,’ she finally managed stiffly. ‘I’m sorry, as well. It’s not my usual practice to insult my guests.’
A smile quirked Larenz’s mouth and his eyes glinted again, as sparkling and blue as sunlight on the sea. The transformation made Ellery’s insides fizz, and she felt faint with a sudden intense longing that she could not, for the life of her, suppress. It rose up inside her in a consuming wave, taking all her self-righteous anger with it. ‘I’m not really a usual guest, am I?’ he teased softly.
‘A bit more demanding,’ Ellery agreed, and wondered if she was actually flirting.
‘Then I must make up for my deficiencies,’ he replied. ‘How about I make us lunch?’
His suggestion caused another frisson of wary pleasure to shiver through her. Ellery arched her eyebrows. ‘You can actually cook?’
‘A few things.’
She hesitated. They were stepping into new territory now, first with the little flirtatious exchange and now with the idea of Larenz actually making lunch—cooking—for her. Dangerous ground.
Exciting ground. Ellery hadn’t felt so alive in ages, not since she’d first buried herself here in the far reaches of Suffolk, and probably far before that, too. She sucked in a slow breath. ‘All right,’ she finally said, and heard the mingled reluctance and anticipation in her voice. Larenz heard it, too, or she assumed as much from the wicked little smile he gave her.
‘Fantastic. Where are your cooking pots?’
Smiling a little bit, a bubble of laughter threatening to rise up inside her and escape, Ellery showed him where everything was. Within a few minutes he was playing at executive chef, dicing a few tomatoes with surprising agility as a big pot of water bubbled on the stove. Ellery knew she should go upstairs and make the beds, but instead she found herself perched on the edge of the table, watching Larenz move around the kitchen with ease and grace. He was wonderful to watch.
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