Unexpected

Chapter Eleven

"It's literally freezing in this aisle," Thorne complained. "It's just milk, honestly Cress." She was taking an awfully long time deciding between three different brands.

"There are just so many," she sighed happily.

Thorne reached into the freezer. "Take this one. It's organic, fair-trade, non-GMO, and all that jazz. Plus, it's 2% so you can't make the case that it has too much fat, nor too little fat replaced by too much sugar."

She stared at him in bewilderment.

"What?" he said, shoving the milk into her cart and urging her along to the next aisle. "I've watched a lot of food documentaries."

Thorne hadn't realized that when he'd offered to swing by Rikan Corp to pick her up, he'd offered to take her grocery shopping as well. Cress had insisted that the short notice she'd received from him about dinner didn't allow her enough time to adequately plan out a meal, so he'd caved against his better judgment. He certainly hadn't expected to end up in the grocery store for almost an hour. Cress had been transfixed by the international food aisle that this particular store had, and they'd gotten stuck there for far too long. The whole thing felt way too domestic for his comfort zone.

When they arrived at her place, Thorne was surprised to see that she had a townhouse all to herself. For some reason, he'd expected a small apartment with at least a roommate or two. The driveway even merged with a little path that led to a decently-sized backyard. The most impressive part of the townhouse, though, was that giant window panes were installed where one would normally have walls. Once inside, he stared at the frozen-over creek in her backyard, feeling as though he could walk right through the air to reach it. Most of the snow from the storm had melted by now, but a light dusting still remained.

"No curtains?" he asked.

"I have curtains in my bedroom, but that's it."

"But you have no privacy in the rest of the house from your neighbors."

She shrugged. "Claustrophobia, remember?"

He did remember. It was hard to forget their time trapped in the elevator and all of her crying. Still, he did think it a bit odd that someone would go out of their way so much just to avoid smaller spaces. Then again, he obviously hadn't bothered to research the topic, so he let it go.

"So...what are you making?"

Cress placed two of her bags in front of the fridge and bent down to pick out what she needed. "Chicken French. Well, a variation of it."

Thorne's mouth watered. "Excellent choice. How much sherry do you use in your version?"

She stopped unpacking the grocery bags. "Wait, you can cook?"

"Of course I can cook," he bragged. "Is there anything more attractive than a man who knows how to cook? If there is, tell me, because I need that information."

Cress seemed to be thinking it over. "I'm not really sure," she said. "I've never really thought about it."

"It was sort of a rhetorical question." Thorne studied her for a moment and then decided to lean against the small island in the middle of her kitchen. It was granite. Another detail he hadn't been expecting. "Anyway, I'm nowhere near as good as Scarlet—she's one of my friends—but I know enough dishes to impress the ladies."

"Interesting," she said, though she didn't look that interested at all, really, and went back to unloading the groceries. "I kind of thought you'd have servants to cook for you."

"Uhh, servants? No, absolutely not."

"But you're friends with Kai," she continued. "I figured you'd be really rich too."