Chapter 126
Chapter 126:
The car wasn’t crowded at all.
Gino and Dominic had long since made themselves scarce.
Ashton sat with the takeaway bag beside him. He lowered the temperature in the car until the faint flush on Mirabelle’s cheeks subsided. The windows were tinted, protecting them from prying eyes.
Mirabelle took a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and drank.
“Is this Carmen’s cooking?” she asked, eyeing the box suspiciously.
“Yes,” he said absently. A few water droplets dripped down her chin. She licked her lips.
She glanced at him. “You really didn’t have to bring me lunch. There are plenty of places to eat around here. And it’s not exactly on your way p>
It wasn’t. Not even close. It was a forty-minute detour with traffic, causing a minor disruption to his schedule.
But Ashton hadn’t been thinking logically when he saw her with Finn Carter. Logic had left him the moment he saw that man’s hands on her shoulders.
“I happened to be nearby,” he lied smoothly.
She shrugged. “Alright then.” She glanced at her phone. “It’s way past lunchtime. You’re probably hungry p>
“Join me p>
“But I’m not hungry p>
“Just a bite. You know you love Carmen’s cooking p>
“I do.” She dug out a disposable fork. “Alright, just a bite.” He opened the box.
Immediately, a wave of vegetable oil and fried onion scent wafted out.
Mirabelle winced, the fork hovering mid-air uncertainly.
“This is Carmen’s cooking p>
𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩:
Ashton mentally cursed the restaurant. The fries were glistening so much that he could see his reflection in them.
But one lie led to another, so he nodded. “Yes, Carmen wanted to try something different today. You know, switch it up a bit. She’s… experimenting p>
Mirabelle inched away from the food, as if it might jump out and stain her blouse. She set down her fork. “You go ahead p>
It was Ashton’s fork’s turn to hover.
“I thought you were hungry,” Mirabelle said.
With grim determination, Ashton picked up the plastic fork and speared a piece of chicken, which looked marginally less oily than its companions.
It was appalling. Greasy, oversalted, vaguely spongy. He chewed mechanically, swallowing with difficulty.
The silence stretched. Only the sounds of his tortured chewing filled the car. Mirabelle watched him sympathetically. She handed him a bottle of iced water from the minifridge.
“Here p>