Admit It (Sinclair 2) - Page 36

The sound of the door unlocking and opening pulled her back to the present. She straightened her spine and tipped up her chin refusing to display her problems all over face. However, when the light from the foyer greeted her, her chin trembled. Then the question…those two words that anyone who’d ever tried to keep their shit together dreaded to hear hung in the air. “What’s wrong?” had felled even the biggest gangsters, and she wasn’t an exception. Bleary eyes turned into faucets as those words triggered her emotions, and the tears she’d been ignoring all week demanded release.

In the mild chill of the spring night air, Cayla’s forehead slumped against a hard chest. His strong arms supported her, the heat from his body warmed her, and his deep voice soothed her. Cayla wasn’t sure if it was him, the cleansing cry, or a combination of both, but the mountain of pressure that had been sitting on her chest crumbled.

Her subconscious brought her to his door because she was exactly where she needed to be.

Chapter 17

Each sob that shook Cayla’s delicate shoulders fueled Dex with rage. A wave of protectiveness washed over him with an intensity he’d never felt before. The desire to find and eliminate the cause of Cayla’s tears prompted him to ask again.

“What’s wrong, Cayla?” he whispered in the most soothing voice he could muster.

When she didn’t answer, Dex pulled her inside and locked his door while keeping her tucked against him. He settled them on the couch and held her until she calmed down. A long, somber sigh signaled the end of the storm of tears.

Cayla pushed off him and straightened her spine. Her light skin was red and splotchy, and her eyes puffy. Dex grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and offered it to her. She accepted it with a nod before blotting at her eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and nose.

“Work again?” he asked getting straight to the point.

Cayla nodded but didn’t offer any extra details.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, hoping she’d open up to him.

Dex wanted to find and destroy the person behind her sadness. She shook her head. He felt the familiar frustration from earlier in the week. He wanted to tell her to quit, that she didn’t need this kind of stress. Dex wanted to tell her he would cover her expenses until she decided what she wanted to do, but he knew she wouldn’t accept that kind of help even if they were a couple. In this part of their relationship, she would be downright offended if he made that kind of offer.

Dex decided to try a different approach. “Cayla, if you are staying in that toxic place for monetary reasons. I would be happy to give you a loan…” She shook her head before he could finish his sentence. It was a long shot. “I could find you somewhere else to work…” Another head shake.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly.

Dex sighed but let it drop; he was at least happy she came to him.

“Hungry?” He changed the subject, opting to do what he did best.

Her eyes lit up a little, and he smiled. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips before he grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. He sat her at the nearby table before moving to the oven. He was already wearing his apron since he was putting the finishing touches on dinner when she arrived.

The scent of the bread told him it’d be finished in a few minutes. It was second nature to him. He rarely used timers anymore unless he was trying something new. He opted to follow his instincts. He peeked at the bread to confirm what he’d already known.

Dex moved to the fridge and retrieved the bottle of wine he had chilling for the meal. He pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and moved them and the bottle to the table. He poured Cayla a generous amount, smirking when she gulped it with the fervor he would expect from the day she’d had.

“I was in the mood for Italian,” he told her as an introduction. “Today, we are having my variation of a seafood marinara. We have shrimp, calamari, clams instead of mussels, and scallops instead of fish all tossed in a marinara sauce made from scratch then laid on top of a bed of linguini. Accompanying the main course, we have fresh garlic bread – also made from scratch – and a Caesar salad,” he proclaimed adapting the tone of a server giving the specials of the day.

Cayla smirked. Encouraged, Dex continued. “For dessert, we have a flourless chocolate cake topped with a white chocolate ganache, fresh raspberries, and a sprinkle of raspberry glaze.”

Cayla licked her lips, and his dick twitched. Not the time, Sinclair. He turned and sauntered over to the oven. Using silicone cloths, he removed the bread from the oven while inhaling the savory aroma of garlic and butter resting on warm yeast. Dex moved it over to the cooling rack and brushed his garlic butter mixture on it before sprinkling oregano and parmesan cheese on top.

Dex had been cooking heavily most of the week. Nick and Kalilah were very grateful for his inner turmoil. Cooking was therapeutic to him. It was his way of processing, and between Cayla and Izzie – he had a lot to process – Cayla’s issue swirled around his head most of the week. What happened at work that took her from post orgasmic bliss on Monday afternoon to sobbing in his arms on Friday? Dex calmed himself by saying it was stress related, but deep down he knew it was a person. Someone was making her working environment unstable.

The signs were there. Over the course of the months he’d known her, he’d seen some of the light dim from her eyes. Cayla had worked there for years, so the pressure was new. Fury still swirled low in his stomach. He needed an excuse to go to her office. Dex was confident he would find one, and when he did, that person had better be ready for the hell he would bring into his or her life.

Dex moved through the kitchen setting utensils, bread, the salad bowl, and the pasta he’d plated on the table. He hadn’t expected company but was happy it was Cayla even if she was in a miserable mood. Now, he knew without a doubt that she was telling the truth about work stressing her out and not just avoiding him because they had had sex. Dex pushed that memory out his mind. He didn’t want to be the kind of ass that seduced a vulnerable woman.

Dex motioned to the plate he’d just sat in front of Cayla. “I gave you a sample size to see if you like it. Let me know if you want more.”

Cayla nodded. He moved the whipped butter to the table and started slicing the bread. Once complete, he sat in his chair and said, “Dig in.”

They said their own graces silently before eating. Dex smile when Cayla complimented the meal. At least her devastation wasn’t enough to completely kill her appetite. They ate in silence, both examining their own lives. Izzie threw a major curveball at him; she wanted to take him on as a client. However, he’d have to move to California or New York for at least a year. He loved the idea of SoCal weather and the ability to be near his cousins plus Izzie is located there, but New York would get him closer to his sister Deidre. He would have to freeze his balls off in the winter and that made him weary.

Dex liked being back home in Houston and needed time to see where things went with Cayla. He had a few months to make the decision since the new program was still in negotiations. His reputation, looks, and new shark of an agent made it possible for him to forgo the audition process. The show was his if he wanted it. After eating at The Food Lab, Izzie had requested that he cook for her. He’d taken her to Nick’s house since they had a chef’s kitchen. He’d made her a seafood paella since it was one of his newly mastered dishes. They’d talked about his travels and how he picked up dishes along the way. Apparently, she’d filmed him, and the network ate it up.

If accepted, his new show would be based on traveling to different places through his meals. As it stood, he would not have to travel – he would basically do what he did for Izzie. Talk about his experiences abroad while he prepared a local dish from that region. It was exciting and terrifying; what if he didn’t have the charisma that kept people watching?

Tags: Francesca Penn Sinclair Erotic
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