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!”

and moved behind him. She had to tiptoe to put the apron

a bow around the waistband neatly. She patted the man’s back and said jokingly, “Hmm, not bad. You

had wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and firm

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

were comparable to Stefan, even Isaac, the escort she met

timer to wait for the sauce to seep

his plastic gloves and casually grabbed a kiwi

while stirring it with a spoon. He then scooped a

see

“Umm…”

to being so intimate with a man. She awkwardly took the spoon

a weird smile. “I thought you’re a divorced

conservative. It’s called a sense of boundaries – a sense

raised her eyebrows and put

god, this is so good. Who would have thought that a burly

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