Race For Love by Nana Malone Read Free Book Online Page A

but otherwise, he moved with the flurry of a man well accustomed to cooking for himself. Or maybe someone else. As slyly as possible, Kisima checked for a ring.
    But apparently she wasn't as slick as she thought she was. "I'm not married. I just like to eat so I figured out how to cook. No big deal."
    Feeling like teasing him, she cocked her head. "I wasn't impressed."
    "Oh yes you were." The wink was quick, but she caught it nonetheless. "Okay, now come on over here and help me chop some onions.
    He handed her the chopping board, placing it on her lap. The knife came second and next came the first half of a peeled onion. Staring down at it, she wondered what series of decisions had led exactly to this moment.
    "Something wrong?" he asked.
    She shook her head. She was not going to lose her shit over a few measly onions. "No." She steadied the onion he handed her and started to chop. It wasn't pretty. Her arm felt shaky, and a couple of times, the knife nearly got away from her, but at the end of five minutes, she had some chopped onions. Never mind that six weeks ago this would only have taken a minute. Still, she was proud of that. "Here you go."
    He picked up the chopping board and glanced at her not-so-pretty chopping job, picking up one of the largest pieces and examining it, but he said nothing. Well screw him and his bloody onions.
    She thought she'd done a good job. He also handed her a large spoon to mix the pasta salad he'd thrown together. When she took the serving spoon with her right, he shook his head at her and tsked.
    "But I'm right handed."
    "Is your right shoulder the one you separated?"
    Damn him. "No."
    "Then please do it with your left." He smiled at her, stunning her for just a moment. But she knew what it meant; she was going to hate every moment of this process. By the end of it, she'd hate him. The voice she thought was so sexy now she'd grow to loathe. She could see it in his eyes. He wasn't going to let her get away with anything.
    At the same time, there was no way she was giving him the satisfaction of her quitting. Slowly, as she stirred, her shoulder screamed. Sweat popped and beaded on her forehead, dampening the hair at her temples. When she was done, she pushed the bowl toward him.
    Even his thank you was patronizing. She was going to need to find her zen place if she wanted to continue working with him.
    "How does it feel?"
    He wanted to know how it felt? Awesome, he was a sadist. "Like I just put my shoulder through a meat grinder."
    He nodded as if he expected that answer. "Do you want to tell me why you refuse to take anything for the pain?"
    Every cell inside her seized. There was no way she was telling him that. Besides, what was she supposed to say? TJ's pill-popping wife wrapped her car around a telephone pole with me and my father inside and I was the only one who survived. When she'd been questioned if Marion had been under the influence, she'd lied to protect the woman she'd loved like family. But even then her young mind understood that Marion's little happy pills had been responsible for her father's death, for her loneliness. "Nope." She didn't care how much pain she was in, she wasn't taking anything.
    He shrugged. "Okay suit yourself. But we're going to lay some ground rules." As he spoke, he piled chicken salad onto the thick slices of fresh baked wheat bread. He cut two sandwiches and carried them to the table. After grabbing them both water he sat.
    "Rules?" She wasn’t looking forward to this, but the sooner she knew what she was dealing with, the better she'd feel.
    "For starters, no more aides. Everyone goes. I know it probably made sense when you first got home, but not anymore. I can help you with anything you need help with."
    She flushed when she thought about how she needed help getting in the shower sometimes. "I'm not sure how I feel—"
    "It's a rule Kisima. It will make you rely on yourself to do things. Modify where you need to, but it makes you self-sufficient.