The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

Chapter 19: 19

“Serves you right,” he mumbles under his breath, lifting brows and grinning at me. He looks back over his shoulder to see she hasn’t heard and gets back to downing his food like a starved dog. I wonder if he’s perfected the art of wolfing it down, so he doesn’t taste it.

“Here, drink slowly. Do you need me to pat your back?” Natasha appears at the side of me, flapping around me and sliding my glass in front of my face as though she really thinks she needs to manually make me drink it. I take it from her with a weird squint her way.

Yeah, calm yourself, Mom.

“Sure I can drink this just fine; it’s passed anyway; must have just gone down the wrong way.” I fake smile brightly and clear my throat, already feeling his judgy eyes on me in case I offend his stupid woman again and picking up on my sarcastic tone, even when veiled in super sweetness.

“She’s fine Tasha, sit and eat. You came over and cooked all this. At least sit and eat with us.” Arrick beams her way warmly, her face at once softening from maternal hen squawking around me to smitten doe eyes that make me want to gag. She can never conceal that bleurgh over the top adoration she has for him, and honestly, it’s kind of pathetic.

“No really, I told you I ate before coming over. You two enjoy while I clean up. I just didn’t want you leaving with an empty stomach for such a long drive.” She leans down kissing him on the cheek in a weirdly juvenile way before scurrying back to her domain, no doubt to shine the pots and steam the chrome cooker. I swear that chick could be in a Febreze ad.

has never heard of

subtle reminder that he wants me to play nice and behave once again. He nods at the food and smiles smugly, suggesting I carry right

at him silently,

time I catch a flicker of a grimace when he takes a mouthful and I’m

feelings himself. I don’t care if she knows I think her cooking is shit. Right now, what I wouldn’t give for real pancakes swimming in syrup

my best wounded look that’s meant to translate to ‘I just can’t.’ Arrick frowns at me, He’s almost done with his food. He glances over his shoulder to see Natasha engrossed in looking under the

built up a stomach of steel

get going. Because now he has to stop

warn you, to save you,” I whisper at him

so hard to be

to her, guilt from him and deadpan from me. Arrick, at least, has the good grace to

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