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10
Today was supposed to have been great, considering the fun day that she had had yesterday with Mr. Foster. However, as Karen stood in the kitchen, angrily cutting the slab of chocolate before her, it told another story.
She was angry, confused, but among all of those, she was upset. She had gotten a call earlier that morning from her younger brother. He had informed her that their mother had already used up all the money that she had sent them about two months ago, just before she finished college.
She couldn't understand why that woman was so bent on wasting her hard earned money as fast as she could. Karen gave her money so that she would use it for more important things, like paying for her brother's school's expenses, but unfortunately she was wrong.
She laid the knife against the counter, sighing. What was she going to do? She couldn't ask Mr. Foster for a raise, considering that he already paid her well, but it just wasn't enough to support herself and three other people. She wanted to cry. Why couldn't her mother just grow up for once and realize that she had a family to take care of. She had already failed in raising her, so why didn't she at least try to do better for her two younger kids?
She shook her head and placed her hands against the cool counter. She knew what she had to do, even though she really didn't want to. She loved her brother a lot and didn't want him having to stress himself out trying to find a way to afford things that he needed for school.
As she pushed herself up from the counter, a knock sounded against the kitchen wall. Mr. Foster stepped slowly into the kitchen, his cane reaching out before him as he stopped by the table. "Mind if I join you?" He questioned, even though she knew fully well that he wasn't asking.
She gave a half hearted yes and went back to baking. He took a seat in one of the chairs and stared in her direction.
"So what are you making?"
She finished chopping up the chocolate and placed it on a small tray. "Cupcakes." She said, pulling out the other ingredients.
Silence filled the room before Mr. Foster spoke up.
"Oh. Can I help?"
"What?" Karen blinked.
"I said can I help."
She watched him for a few seconds, trying to make sure he wasn't just joking around. "Are you sure nothing's wrong with you? Do you have a fever? Maybe I need to call Juliana." She said seriously as she picked up her phone.
He rolled his eyes. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just a little bored."
She raised a brow. "And you figured that hanging out with me..in the kitchen would be fun?" She asked skeptically.
He shrugged. "Honestly, no." He continued, "But right now I'm pretty desperate."
"Good to know." She said dryly.
She went back to putting her ingredients together, ignoring the man on the opposite side of the room. He tapped his fingers along the side of the table, sighing heavily every few seconds.
Karen forced herself to look up. "Is there a problem, Mr. Foster?" She asked tightly.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, it's nothing. Just go back to what you were doing." He waved his hand at her.
Karen turned her attention back to what she was doing when he released another sigh. She dropped the pack of sugar down onto the counter.
"Fine." She gave up, "You can come help."
He gave an innocent look. "Well, if you insist."
"I do! Now hurry up before I change my mind."
He shot up from his chair, using his cane to feel around until he had reached her side. They were side by side now, his tall frame towering over her slightly. She glanced up.
"Do you think you could take those off?"
He bent his head down. "Take what off?"
"The sunglasses."
"Why?" He asked simply.
"Because we're in the house." She trailed.
"And the problem is what exactly?"
She was tired of fighting with him. "Never mind, just keep the ugly things on."
He frowned. "My glasses are not ugly."
"How would you know?" She shot back, not meaning to sound like a jerk.
"Because Juliana said they looked good."
"Well, she lied." Karen said, mixing the cupcake batter together. When she turned to ask Mr. Foster if he wanted to help, her breath couldn't help but catch as she stared up into his vibrant blue eyes.
"You..You took them off." She said dumbly, causing him to flick his wrist in dismissal.
"Well you didn't expect me to keep them on knowing that they made me look hideous, did you?" He retorted. "Now are you going to let me help or not?"
She pulled her gaze away from him. "Uh, yeah, I'll let you pour the batter into the holes." She said, placing the bowl in his hand. He struggled at first, missing the tray completely. Karen covered one of his hands with her own as she helped him put the batter into the holes. Mr. Foster kept his gaze locked on the tray, even though he couldn't really see what he was doing. His upper lip curved up slightly.
"I'm starting to think that you just like holding my hands."
"That's not true. You were getting batter all over the place. I was merely helping." She said defensively.
"Mhm." He uttered unconvinced and she pulled her hand away.
"If that's how you feel, you can do it yourself then."
Mr. Foster dropped the spoon onto the counter and reached his hand back out until he caught onto her free one. She tried to yank it back, but he wouldn't yield.
"What are you doing. Let my hand go." She demanded angrily.
He picked the spoon back up, her small hand still in his. "No." he stated simply.
She reeled back. "What do you mean, no."
"Exactly what I just said."
She gave an angry huff. "Just a second ago you were saying you didn't like me holding your hand, now you won't let mine go. What's wrong with you?"
"I never said I didn't like you holding my hand, in fact I might actually enjoy it more than I should." He said, never glancing in her direction.
Karen watched the man before her in silence, not really knowing how to reply. He was so dang moody. One second he was uptight and cranky and the next he was warm and inviting.
She didn't know what to make of the man. She didn't know what to make of the strange feelings coursing through her body at the moment. Her brained screamed, run away, while her body said another thing.
Even though she had told him over and over to let go of her hand, whenever his grip loosened, she always seemed to find herself holding his hand just a little bit tighter.