She didn’t usually stay after the lesson and join her students for the meal they had created, but Lucas had insisted and frankly, Rose thought with an inner sigh, she hadn’t wanted to leave. Probably not a good idea to start getting attached, she warned herself sternly, but then she had always had a soft spot for Lucas King. She couldn’t explain it. It just…was.
Still, after two hours of working closely together in his amazingly wonderful kitchen, Rose still couldn’t have said that she knew Lucas any better than she once had. Oh, he seemed friendly enough, despite the thin thread of distance he insisted on keeping between them.
But then, she reminded herself as she looked back at her memories, Lucas had always been a little closed off. That’s probably what had drawn her to him in the first place, Rose realized. In her own family, the men had been outgoing, gregarious. Whatever they were thinking, they didn’t keep to themselves. They were loud and emotional and easy to read.
Meeting Lucas had been like brushing up against a gorgeous mystery. His blue eyes held secrets, his almost unreadable expressions tempted her to delve deeper and his quiet self-assurance had been a welcome difference from her brother and father.
He’d attracted her with his quiet thoughtfulness and, apparently, that hadn’t changed.
“Earth to Rose,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her face.
She came up out of her thoughts fast and gave herself a shake. “Sorry. What?”
Lucas gave her a half smile. “You zoned out. Was it the sparkling conversation or the slightly charred chicken breast?”
She laughed a little. “The chicken is just a little well done,” she said, glancing down at the salsa-covered meat on her plate. “Not bad at all for a first try.”
“So the conversation put you to sleep?”
“No,” she said, taking a bite of the mushroom au gratin casserole. “But the lack of it might. You haven’t had a lot to say in the last hour or so, Lucas.”
“Cooking takes concentration,” he said with a shrug.
“Is that all it is?”
He looked at her. “What else would it be?”
“I don’t know,” she mused, taking a small sip of the chardonnay he had poured for both of them. “Maybe you’re regretting hiring me? After the way you and Dave left things, I’m still not sure why you hired me in the first place.”
His features tightened briefly at the mention of her brother, and, once again, Rose really wished she knew what had come between the two men. One day, their friendship was just…over. Lucas hadn’t come around anymore, and Dave had refused to talk about it with her. Unfortunately, that hadn’t changed two years later. Neither of them seemed willing to satisfy her curiosity.
“Dave’s got nothing to do with this,” Lucas murmured. “You teach cooking, I need to learn, end of story.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t believe him. Sure, there had been the coincidence of him seeing her at his neighbor’s house. But what had moved him to ask her to help him learn to cook? Why would he suddenly be willing to talk to the sister of the man he hadn’t spoken to in years? There was more here and she’d eventually get to the bottom of it. But for now, she was willing to let it go.
“So what did you think of the mushrooms au gratin?”
He grinned and took a big bite of the casserole side dish in question. Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he said, “It proves that with enough sour cream and cheese, anything is edible. Even fungi and parsley.”
“A lovely compliment,” she said, chuckling. “But you have to admit, the first meal you cooked turned out pretty well.”
“Better than Kathy Robertson’s?”
“Why are men so competitive?”
“It’s a gift. So?”
“Yes,” she reluctantly admitted. “I don’t really like to talk about my clients, but yours was way better. Kathy burned the onions so badly, I had to throw one of my favorite pans away.”
He shuddered. “Hope she kept the name of the last caterer she used.”
Laughing, Rose said, “That was just mean. She’s going to get the hang of it.”
He studied her for so long, Rose began to shift uneasily in her chair. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “But you really are a positive, glass-is-half-full kind of woman, aren’t you?”
Rose tensed briefly. For most of her life, she had pretty much been the Pollyanna type. She looked for the good around her and generally found it. Until, of course, her ex-husband had not only snatched off her rose-colored glasses, but also ground them to dust under his heel.
After that, she’d had to fight to regain her sense of well-being. She’d had to force herself to smile until, eventually, it had become real. And now, she wasn’t going to go back to the dark side again. She wasn’t going to apologize because she liked rainbows and puppies and laughing children.
“Seeing the empty half doesn’t make you more mature or more intelligent,” she said softly. “It only means you’re looking for what you don’t have. How is that a good thing?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” she said, folding her napkin and standing up. “I like a half-full glass. And if yours is half-empty, then I’m sorry.”
He stiffened as if she’d hit a sore spot. Instantly, Rose regretted the fact that their semipleasant evening had deteriorated somehow. But maybe it was better this way. Keep the distance of teacher and student between them. Because he hadn’t hired her to be his friend—or anything else. This was a job. A good-paying job at that, and she wasn’t willing to risk it by opening up doors that should probably remain closed.
“My glass is just fine, thanks,” he said, his voice hardly more than a low rumble of sound.
“Glad to hear it.” Rose looked at him, and, in spite of knowing that she should just keep her mouth shut and protect this very well-paying job, she just had to say, “Maybe your glass is full, but if it’s holding the wrong things, what difference does it make?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Dumb analogy anyway. Look, why don’t I help you clean this up? Then we’ll make out a menu and a grocery list for tomorrow.”
She left him sitting at the table and even though she didn’t look around, Rose knew he was still watching her when she started loading the dishwasher.