Sip of Assistance

Chapter 25

A part of me wanted to say ‘yes’ to him badly when he proposed- the part of me that had loved him and remembered how sweet he could be.

But the rational part of me knew he was still with Danielle and that if he really felt about me the way he said he did, his actions would have been entirely different. Oddly enough, my head wasn’t the only reason I said no; my heart wasn’t in it either. That surprised me more than anything. The moment he mentioned me telling James that I quit I snapped out of it… out of the past and out of my indecision. I didn’t want to stop working for James or not see him regularly. The concept of not being around him and his easy going attitude just wasn’t something I could wrap my head around.

I looked up at James to see his jaw was tensed, eyes darkened and there was a moment of awkward silence. Suddenly he continued as if it didn’t happen, “Well some of us have taste buds and would prefer not to be throwing up from food poisoning all night.” He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his light yet still shadowy eyes.

“At least let me help,” I pleaded, allowing the subject change and still needing the distraction from the thoughts in my head involving James and his forearms.

He laughed, “All right, you set the mood and then I will entrust you with the great responsibility of making the salad. After that you can watch the master work.”

I knew exactly what he meant by ‘set the mood’; it had become routine the last few weeks. I walked into the living room and turned on the stereo, raising the volume so it could be heard from the kitchen, which is where I headed to, grabbing a bottle of white wine and the opener.

I poured myself a glass and grabbed James a beer. He accepted it with a smile as he hummed to the tune and seasoned the steaks.

I made my salad pretty quickly and then sat to ‘watch the master work’ as he so arrogantly stated.

By the time dinner was ready his once crisp shirt had sauce and juice from the steak, butter from the veggies, and gravy on it. I laughed to myself at the sight before me; James was holding two plates of food headed for the dining room table where I sat. With his arms out underneath our plates, his stained shirt was in full view. My laughter grew louder the closer he got. Knowing the cause of my giggle fit, he ignored me and set our food down.

When he didn’t sit down I looked up at him from my seat. He was staring down at me as he unbuttoned his shirt. He was already three buttons down by the time I noticed. My laughter cut short and I swallowed hard as his chest began peeking into view.

“I’m so glad I could amuse you, smart ass,” he laughed as he untucked his shirt and reached for the last two buttons.

“So you’re plan is to eat shirtless? Dinner and a show?” I joked, avoiding his gaze and final looking at the plate in front of me. My steak was obviously cooked to medium-rare perfection and the mashed potatoes I knew from watching him cook were of the homemade and delicious variety. The salad I made looked boring and inedible next to both.

“How would you be able to eat if you were drooling over me?” he said as he left the room. He pulled the shirt off entirely before he was out of sight and I watched the muscles in his back move as he headed for his bedroom.

I sat quietly awaiting his return, taking a large gulp of my wine and mulling over his words, wondering if he’d said that because it was obvious to him how attracted I was to everything about him. I really hoped he was just joking because after Jon I didn’t want him to think I just had a thing for dating my bosses.

When he returned in a simple snug gray shirt that clung to his chest I looked down at my food instead of at him. “This looks great.”

“Thanks, dig in.”

I did and aside from the soft hum of music we ate in a comfortable silence, as we had lately. James had found that at dinner time I wasn’t the best conversationalist. His food was too good for me to stop shoveling it into my face so that I could speak.

When we finished I started doing the dishes and cleaning up the war zone of a kitchen. He stepped up beside me drying the dishes with a towel.

“Thanksgiving is in less than a week, you have any plans?” I asked him.

“Naw, that’s your American holiday, not mine,” he joked bumping my hip with his.

I laughed, “Oh yeah.”

“What about you? If you have people to go see you can have all the time off you need.” His voice was sincere but the way he furrowed his eyebrows made me think he didn’t entirely mean it. I wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t so I ignored it.

“No, I don’t have any family and all my friends are also people in the business. They’ll prolly all be with their families. It’s not a big deal,” I shrugged and focused my attention back on the plate I was scrubbing.

“I’m sorry; I forget sometimes that you don’t have any family. Was it always like that?” His tone was one of guilt and curiosity.

I smiled, not wanting him to feel bad. None of it was his fault. “It’s okay… My dad died when I was in college. Cancer. He was sick for a long time before so I knew it was coming. Before that it was just the two of us for as long as I can remember. You’d have liked him; he was a hard worker, but his demeanor was always relaxed and happy.” I smiled thinking about our Thanksgivings together over the years.

“Our Thanksgiving days were never fancy or elaborate just football and friends of my dad’s. Everyone would bring over sides and he would take care of the turkey. It was simple, but I loved it. I haven’t celebrated since he died… didn’t really seem like it would be any fun without him.” I gave James a small smile, hoping I wasn’t bringing down his mood or causing more guilt. “Anyway, since you don’t celebrate that makes everything easy.” I finished the last fork, rinsed it off and handed it to him.

“Thanks for another awesome meal. I’m gonna get back to reading those scripts. There’s gotta be at least a few gems, eh?”

With that I headed back into the living room ready for a long night. I pushed away all thoughts of my dad and Thanksgiving, assuming that would be the last I had to think about it until the next year.

I was wrong, not just about ignoring Turkey Day, but about the lengths James would go to in order to make me feel better. I’d assumed it was pity… turned out it was friendship and genuine thoughtfulness.