Page 45 of Ink and Ashes

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you here.” I shrug. “You’ll be safe here. That’s what’s important.”

“Right,” she says, but there’s a sadness in her tone. “Safe.”

My brows pull together, but she starts talking again before I have a chance to say anything.

“This all just happened kind of fast. We didn’t really talk about the terms of me staying here.”

I cock a brow. “What terms?”

“Exactly.” She huffs a laugh, pushing herself up to sit on the island countertop. “I don’t feel comfortable living here for nothing, especially not since you’ll be feeding me now too. I’d like to pay you rent.”

My tongue darts out over my lips as I turn to pour myself a cup of coffee from the French press on the counter next to me, then lean against it so I’m facing her. “You’re not paying me rent, Rhodes.”

“Colson,” she says simply, pleading with me to agree.

“Holland,” I return, and damn if I don’t love the way the name tastes on my tongue. It may not be the one she was born with, but it’s her , through and through.

She narrows her eyes at me. “I need to do something to pay you back for your hospitality.”

I take a sip of the coffee, a burst of flavour exploding on my tongue. I don’t know what she put in this, but it’s the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.

“Fine,” I say. “You wanna contribute? You can buy the groceries and make the coffee, because this is damn good.” I hold the mug up before taking another sip. “But you’re not paying rent.”

Her lips quirk up at the corner. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Okay,” I agree, then I start moving around the kitchen to finish the breakfast Holland started.

The bacon she burnt was the only pack I had, so I pull some ham, eggs, peppers, and spinach from the fridge, as well as a frozen crust from the freezer.

The entire time I work, I feel her gaze tracking me.

“See something you like?” I ask with a grin as I crack a few eggs into a bowl and mix them together.

I glance up to see her throat work as she swallows. She looks from my arms to the bowl, trying to play it cool as if I didn’t just catch her checking me out.

“It’s kind of gross to cook without a shirt on,” she says, bringing her mug to her lips.

I burst out laughing, then head into the pantry to grab the apron I have hanging on the back of the door. I pull it over my head and when I re-enter the kitchen, Holland’s eyes roll so far back into her head I’d be surprised if she didn’t see that big, beautiful brain of hers.

Which only makes me laugh harder.

“Better?” I ask as I get back to making the quiche .

She shakes her head, smiling. “It’ll do.”

I watch her watch me out of my periphery as I continue mixing the ingredients for the quiche.

It feels wrong to be enjoying myself here with her, especially given the events of yesterday.

But she makes me feel so damn good, and if laughing with her is what it takes to help me forget for a few minutes, I’m going to take full advantage of it.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?” she asks, drinking up both me and the coffee in her hands.

I add the veggies, ham, and some seasoning to the egg mixture. “My mom.” I smile as I think about cooking with her as a kid. Spending weekends trying new recipes for my dad and sister.

“It’s nice she taught you that,” Holland says softly as I put the quiche into the oven, setting the timer for thirty minutes. When I glance up at her, a solemn look fills her features, and my brows pull together.

“Your parents never taught you?”

Holland swallows roughly, shaking her head.

“I’m not sure they know how to cook either, and the only things we did as a family were attend galas and debates.

I grew up with personal chefs who made all my meals, and since living on my own, I’ve always eaten out or made meals that don’t involve using the stove. ”

My eyes widen slightly. Even before I found out who she really is, I’d figured Holland had money based on how she dresses, but I never thought she was have a personal chef rich. Aside from her clothes and her confidence, nothing about her screams spoiled rich girl .

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrug. “I’m reconsidering letting you pay rent. I didn’t realize you came from so much money.”

“Dad’s a famous politician, remember?” She chuckles, but it falls flat.

“Having money isn’t everything, though. I’d take a mother who taught me how to cook and a father who mentored me over lots of money any day.

You grew up a different kind of rich…with a family who cared about you , not just your success. I wish I’d had that. ”

My heart cracks. I knew when she arrived that she was running from something, and though being blacklisted was the spark that set her life on fire, I’m guessing her parents played a big role in her departure.

“Are you an only child?”

She nods, keeping her gaze trained on the coffee mug in her hands. “My parents never wanted kids. After they had me, they took precautions to make sure they wouldn’t have any more.”

I hum in understanding, noticing a small tear fall from the corner of her eye. She’s quick to wipe it away, and as much as I want to know everything about this woman, I take that as my cue to change the subject. She’ll open up when she’s ready.

“I’ll teach you,” I tell her.

A knot forms between her eyebrows. “To cook?”

“Yeah.” I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “If you want to learn, I can teach you.”

A small smile forms on her face—a real one this time. “I… I would love that.”

I smile back at her and we continue to make small talk until breakfast is ready, making sure to keep the conversation light.

When the oven beeps to let me know the quiche is done, I pull it out and cut us each a piece.

Holland is quick to dig in, and when a soft moan falls from her lips and her eyes flutter shut, I realize just how far gone I am for her.

Having her move in definitely wasn’t a good idea.