Chapter 15
Harlow went to the window, patted her burning cheeks, and took several deep breaths. Only after a long while did she return to the ingredients.
She planned three meat dishes, three vegetable dishes, and a chicken soup.
She had just set the chicken to simmer in the Dutch oven when the doorbell rang.
Cillian went to answer it. A gentle voice floated in from the entryway.
“Cillian, I’m back!”
Harlow turned at the sound and saw a tall, pretty woman standing at the door with a suitcase. She smiled up at Cillian, took his arm, and shook it in a spoiled little gesture. “Six hours on a plane and my chest is already acting up. I swear, now that I’m back, I’m not leaving again.”
“Did you take your medicine?” Cillian’s voice tightened with obvious concern.
“I did. Don’t worry. I’m just tired.”
As she spoke, she pushed the suitcase toward Cillian and walked straight into the living room.
Harlow stopped short.
So his girlfriend was here.
No wonder he had said dinner for two. Harlow had assumed the second portion was for her.
Ridiculous. Truly. One sprinkle of delusion and she had built herself a whole restaurant.
The woman quickly noticed someone in the kitchen. She turned and looked toward Harlow.
“Cillian, who is that?” Her gentle gaze cooled into a sharp probe as she studied Harlow. Clearly, she had already misunderstood the relationship.
“I’m the part-time cook Mr. Emerson hired,” Harlow said at once, slapping a brand-new identity onto herself for self-preservation.
Cillian looked at her from across the room.
How cleanly she cut herself away.
Beatrix Hale did not quite believe it. Someone who looked like that came in by the hour to cook?
The woman in the kitchen was easily the most beautiful woman Beatrix had ever seen. Long hair, refined features, skin pale as fresh snow, figure slender where it should be and curved where it counted. She had the bright, elegant presence of an old-school movie star.
With a face like that, she could walk into any casting call and book a screen test on the spot. Why would she choose to work as a cook?
“Cillian, is she really the cook you hired?” Beatrix turned to him for confirmation.
“What else?” Cillian’s expression cooled. “Who would be dumb enough to pretend to be a part-time cook for fun?”
Harlow: “…”
Thanks. Direct hit.
“What are you standing there for?” Cillian said irritably. “Cook.”
Since she liked playing the part-time cook so much, he might as well let her enjoy the role properly.
“Yes, Mr. Emerson.”
Harlow returned to the island and began chopping vegetables.
In the living room, Beatrix was still suspicious and kept fishing for information. Cillian’s patience thinned. At last, he said, “She’s irrelevant. Why are you asking so many questions?”
“Okay, okay. I won’t ask.” Beatrix seemed to be coaxed out of it and said softly, “I brought you a gift from abroad. See if you like it.”
Outside the kitchen came the sounds of a suitcase opening and gifts being unwrapped.
Harlow’s knife struck the cutting board in a steady, numb rhythm.
Right.
She was irrelevant.
She needed to remember her place. After she repaid Cillian’s favor today, there would be no need for further entanglement.
Two hours later, Harlow had finished six dishes and a soup.
Beatrix looked at the table, and her voice lifted slightly. “What a coincidence. All six dishes are Cillian’s favorites.”
Cillian walked into the dining room. He looked at the food first, then at Harlow, his expression complicated.
Harlow smiled. “Mr. Emerson sent me the menu. I cooked according to his instructions.”
“So that’s it. I was wondering how you knew what Cillian likes.”
Beatrix’s suspicion cleared. Cillian’s gaze remained locked on Harlow.
He had sent the menu, yes.
But the menu he sent had been long. Not every dish on it was something he loved. How had she chosen exactly the ones he preferred?
Did she still remember his tastes?
“You…”
“The food is done, and the account is settled. I’ll leave now.” Harlow cut him off before he could notice anything.
The account was settled?
What account?
Naturally, the favor he had done by helping her recover the camera.
Cillian heard the line she was drawing, and irritation rose in his chest.
He was about to stop her when Beatrix spoke first.
“Wait. Can I add your contact?”
“Add my contact?”
“Yes. I just came back and don’t know the restaurants around here. Your food looks wonderful, so I might want to hire you to cook for me later. Adding you would make that easier.”
Harlow had no desire to add Cillian Emerson’s girlfriend as a contact.
But what kind of part-time cook rejected a potential client? If she was acting, she had to commit. She gave Beatrix her number.
They added each other in person. Beatrix immediately noticed Harlow’s profile picture.
“Is the child in your profile picture…?”
“My daughter.” Harlow used the opening. “She’s still young, and I usually need to take care of her, so I’m not always available for cooking jobs.”
She was laying the groundwork in advance. If Beatrix really asked her to cook later, she would have a reason to refuse.
Once Beatrix heard Harlow had a child, her guard dropped at once. Who cared about cooking now?
“I understand. Your daughter is beautiful. You and your husband must both be very good-looking.”
Harlow went stiff with embarrassment.
Felix Lowell was not exactly a standout among men. Beatrix saying that might remind Cillian of something. If Cillian began to suspect Calista was his, everything would become complicated.
But Cillian’s thoughts did not go there.
He was simply unhappy that Beatrix had mentioned Felix Lowell.
“Eat,” Cillian said, walking to the table. “The food will get cold.”
“Okay.” Beatrix waved at Harlow. “We’re going to eat, then. See you next time.”
“Enjoy your meal. Goodbye.”
Harlow left as quickly as possible.
After returning from Cillian’s place, Harlow stayed unsettled.
Images of Cillian with his girlfriend kept surfacing in her mind, and the sour ache in her chest rose with them.
She did not know what she was upset about.
Cillian was gorgeous. Now he was successful too, wealthy and powerful, a man who naturally drew attention in every glittering room he entered. It made sense that he had a young, beautiful girlfriend.
As for her and Cillian, that line had been drawn six years ago. She should not be letting him disturb her heart again. What she needed to do now was focus on walking her own road.
Harlow was trying to force her emotions back into order when she received a message from Calista’s kindergarten teacher.
[Calista’s mom, when Calista’s dad came to pick her up just now, he forgot to take her blanket. Tomorrow is the weekend, so every child needs to bring their blanket home to wash over the weekend. Please come by after school if it’s convenient.]
Calista’s dad?
