Renee walked in with a curious expression and asked, “What can I help you with?”

Mr. Q was wearing disposable plastic gloves in both hands. He was marinating the steaks with a secret sauce.

“Help me wear the apron, please. My hands are occupied.”

He gestured to an apron hanging on the cabinet with his chin, giving out the command naturally.

“Help you… put on the apron?”

Renee felt a moment of awkwardness. She hesitated and did not move.

This kind of action was way too intimate. Wasn’t this usually something that only couples would do?

Mr. Q turned around and looked at her flatly. “Is something wrong? Are you… shy?”

“Of course not!”

to grab the apron and moved behind him. She had to tiptoe to put the apron over his head. She pretended to be nonchalant and said, “I’m a divorced woman. I’ve experienced everything

wrapped around the man’s strong waist, and her thin fingers tied a bow around the waistband neatly. She patted the man’s back

He had wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and

other trees in the forest. Her vision was seriously too narrow

of men she met after her divorce were comparable

set the timer

plastic gloves and casually grabbed a kiwi

fruit yogurt while stirring it with a spoon. He then scooped a spoonful

this and see if you like

“Umm…”

She was not used to being so intimate with a man. She awkwardly

curled into a weird smile. “I thought you’re a divorced woman who has

boundaries –

raised her eyebrows and put on

so good. Who would have thought that a burly

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