Eight
“So that’s why you never talk about your family.” Ruthie had offered to help Alastair with the tacos, so she was carefully chopping some scallions with his second-best knife. He still didn’t trust her with his best one.
“Good God, woman, wash your mouth out. Waverly is not my family. Never was, even when Carole was alive. She made sure I knew that every chance she had. Angle the knife a bit more, like this.”
He took the knife from her and demonstrated his technique. His skill with his knives always amazed her. She watched his hands in fascination. They moved as if they had their own intelligence, as if she could have a conversation with them and never be bored.
Her cheek still tingled where he’d kissed her. He’d never done anything like that before. It was no big deal, just a pla
