Yes, Sirs (Book 1 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 109 - Gideon

Emma was beautiful like this, in my kitchen with casual clothes on under the apron. Her hair was gathered in a high ponytail, showing her sweet face. Like this, she looked warm; an easy smile rested on her lips, her cheeks held a natural blush and eyes that were always simple to read. Right now, they said that she was content—happy even.

I didn't like to think I was the cause of it. I was too messed up to cause someone else's joy. And I didn't want to think about how much lighter I felt with her around, either.

Positive feelings for me were alien, and as much as I enjoyed those feelings, they were still unwelcome. Anger was all I'd known for so long. It was what I was used to, and while it wasn't healthy, anger was safe. Who was I if I didn't have that? I didn't want to change. I wasn't ready for change.

Still...if I didn't want change, then I couldn't have Emma either. And I didn't think I'd be able to let her go, even if I'd wanted to.

There was something about her that drew me in, no matter how much I might dislike that fact. But maybe, there was something I liked about it too; I just didn't want to admit it.

"What kind of stir fry are we making?" Emma asked while rolling up her sleeves.

"One with chicken and noodles," I answered gruffly, really not looking forward to teaching her how to cook. When she'd asked me, I'd been taken by surprise and agreed before I registered what exactly I had agreed to. After it was said, I couldn't take it back.

I'd never had anyone in the kitchen with me. This was my sacred place, and I didn't like anyone invading it. Though, I only had myself to blame, agreeing to teach her and all. What was worse was that this would force me to talk more than I was comfortable doing, but I couldn't actually teach her without speaking, could I? Dumb fuck. That was what I was.

"Okay then, put me to work, chef," she said cheekily, and I suppressed a groan. Yeah, I definitely wasn't ready for this. "Should any of these be washed first?"

"No, I always wash them before I put them in the fridge. Start with the onions, one of each, and chop them finely," I directed, nodding at the red onion and the Spanish onion, and went ahead to bring out the wok pan.

Emma started peeling off the outer layer of the onions while I washed and peeled the carrots. Knowing I was supposed to teach her, I started explaining the dish. "With stir fry, you can pretty much put whatever vegetables you want in it. You don't have to follow a recipe."

"So, paprika?"

"Yes."

"And sweet potatoes?"

"Yes."

"What about asparagus?" she continued, and at this point, I didn't know if she was deliberately trying to annoy me, or genuinely curious.

With a sigh, I answered, "Even asparagus." I looked over to see her staring at the freshly peeled onions with scrunched brows. "There's a knife on your right," I said.

"Uh, right." She grabbed the knife but didn't start cutting. Knowing there was something else she struggled with, I waited until she asked me herself.

It didn't take long before she looked back at me, her cheeks ever redder than earlier. "So, what did you mean by chopping them finely?"

For some reason, that almost made me smile, but I refrained. Grabbing a paper towel and wetting it first, I walked up to Emma and placed the paper on the cutting board. "This'll help with the acid."

"How so?"

"The acid in the onion will bleed when we cut it. The wet towel will help absorb the chemical instead of your eyes," I answered.