Page 57 of A Chef's Kiss for Christmas

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“We could also eat at your place,” she suggested. “But you’d still need to drop me home again later. Let’s just leave it, shall we?”

“You could come to my place,” he said slowly.

Her lips stretched into a full smile. “That was an extremely half-hearted invitation.”

“I was just trying to think what state I left it in this morning.”

“I’ve never been to your place,” she said. She also couldn’t recall Lewis ever mentioning hanging out there. “Has Lewis ever been?”

“No.”

“He’s your best friend, and he’s never been to your home?”

He pursed his lips. “We tend to hang out at the hotel. Maybe the pub if we’re feeling adventurous.”

“I’d actually like to come to your place. I’m intrigued now.”

“It’s nothing impressive.”

“I want to see,” she said.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Okay.”

Once they were on their way again, Anna took in the serious set of his features and could have sworn he was nervous. Which only made her more curious.

“Do you often take dinner for your neighbour?” she asked eventually.

“A couple of times a week.” His eyes snapped to her. “Lewis knows about it. He said it was fine.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you were stealing or anything. I only wondered.”

“She lives on her own. I know how annoying it is to cook for one person, so I bring her food sometimes. She cooks for me on Mondays when it’s my day off.”

“Every Monday?”

“Yeah.”

“So you eat together as well as bringing her food?”

“Most of the time. I can just drop it off today, though. She won’t care.”

Anna smiled weakly, surprised once again at how little she knew about him. And by how much she disliked the thought of him regularly sharing meals with his single female neighbour.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The cul-de-sac lined with large, detached houses came as yet another surprise. Previously, Anna had had a vague notion of where Warren lived, but this wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind.

“I thought you said your place was small,” she remarked when he parked in the driveway of the furthest house.

“It is,” he replied, pulling the handbrake on. “This is my neighbour’s house.”

“Which one’s yours?” She looked at the houses on either side. “They all look pretty impressive to me.”

He didn’t reply but reached for the bag on the back seat, then stepped out of the car. “Come on.”