Читать книгу Marriage Made In Monte Calanetti - Susan Meier - Страница 16

Mic was so angry with Lily that he didn’t sleep that night. He actually debated not going to work the next day, but knew he had to, if only to prove he did not run from his troubles.

When she stepped into the kitchen and took a clean apron from the shelf, he stood taller.

Accuse him of being wrong? Ha! That was insane.

“Good morning, Ms. Norelli.”

Her face flamed with color. “Good morning, Chef Mic.”

Rafe waved his knife. “And good morning to me. Now that greetings are over, could we do some work?”

Holding Lily’s gaze, Mic said, “I’d love to work since I don’t let my responsibilities slip.”

Her chin lifted and she left the room.

But the quieter she got, the angrier Mic got. Every “please” and “thank you” grated against his nerves. Her sweet, polite act was just a way to make him wonder if she wasn’t correct. Had he really been the one to bail on her?

As soon as that thought popped into his head, he balked. He had not bailed! She hadn’t given him a chance to prove himself. To prove that he could have supported her, helped raise her sister. She snatched that chance away with her refusal to marry him.

The next time she gave him her overly polite thank you, he yanked the dish away from her. “Perhaps, if it’s too much trouble for you to be honest, I should serve this dish to our customer.”

“Too much trouble? I was sparing you trouble!”

Instantly, Rafe was beside him. “I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but take it outside.”

Mic ran his hand along the back of his neck. “We’re fine.”

Lily quietly said, “Yes, Chef Rafe. We are fine.”

But Rafe took Mic’s shoulders and turned him to the back door. “No. I hear this all day. I grow tired of it. Go outside and solve it.”

Lily followed Mic out the door. When it closed behind them, he turned on Lily.

“You gutted me with your refusal of my proposal. You said, ‘No. I can’t marry you.’ Then you’d looked me in the eye and said, ‘I don’t love you.’ What did you expect me to do?”

She stormed over to him, as angry as he was, and poked her finger into his chest. “I expected you to think. My God, Mic. I was eighteen and I had a ten-year-old sister who was grieving her parents. You were the bright spot in our lives and at my first confused answer, you left. You didn’t even come by the next day to ask if I was sure. To talk it out. You just left.”

He caught the finger jabbing into his chest. “You want me to say I’m sorry you broke my heart? Are you nuts?”

She looked up into his eyes. “I want you to say my sacrifice was worth it. That you’re who you wanted to be. That you’re grateful.”

“Now I’m to be grateful that you broke my heart?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”

The sight of her tears kicked away any common sense he might have. He caught her shoulders and drew her up as his head lowered. Their lips met in a blinding flash of need so intense it seemed to swallow both of them in its angry vortex. Her lips answered his raw need as he plundered her mouth. Desire burst through him. Heat that he remembered from a long-ago love.

Lily. His Lily. Was in his arms.