Night had slowly settled over the farm, as the last traces of daylight disappeared.
I helped Dad prepare dinner, and I swear I had never seen him look more shocked than when I washed my hands and tied an apron around my waist.
"Yareli Olivia Galveston?!"
I looked at him, pretending not to understand why he sounded like he'd just witnessed the impossible.
"Yes, Papa?"
His eyes narrowed at me.
Of course he was taken aback.
He knew exactly how much I dreaded cooking.
"I must be dreaming. You want to cook?" he asked, staring at me.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Why is that such a surprise?"
"The nerve of you to ask me that," he said, shaking his head. "The last time you willingly laid hands on a pot, you were sixteen."
I paused.
"Wow. It's really been that long?"
"Yes."
"Well, I guess I'm ready to turn a new leaf."
I gathered the vegetables and placed them in the sink, trying to look as if this was a completely normal occurrence.
Dad blinked at me, still in disbelief.
"Lord help me. The world must be coming to an end."
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
"Oh, please. Don't be dramatic."
I couldn't blame him for being surprised.
Seeing me willingly step into the kitchen was worthy of a documentary.
If only he knew I had baked a few days ago, he might need to sit down before the shock took him out.
The things we do for love, am I right?
The thought made me pause.
Love?
Where did that come from?
I shook my head quickly.
This was just me being a good daughter, helping my father out.
That was all.
Yes. That had to be all.
Having a sous chef made things much easier for Dad, and we managed to finish preparing dinner in record time.
Although, if I was being honest, I felt guilty.
All this time, I'd let him handle things alone, and suddenly I was volunteering to help because of a man.
A man I barely knew.
Oh, Yareli. What has become of you?
"Okay, pie's in the oven," Dad announced, removing his apron. "I'm going to take a shower."
I looked up.
"If they arrive before I'm out, serve tea."
My head snapped towards him.
"What? Absolutely not."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I can't welcome guests looking like this."
He looked me over. "You look fine."
"Papa, why don't you stay and I'll freshen up quickly, hm?"
The panic in my voice was probably a little too obvious.
He waved me off. "Nonsense. I'll be done in no time."
"Besides, they won't be here until eight."
Then disappeared down the hallway before I could argue.
My eyes immediately went to the clock on the wall.
7:38.
I let out a small breath of relief.
There was still time.
Which was probably why I made the terrible mistake of resting my head for 'just a few minutes.'
Next thing I knew, I was slowly pulled out of sleep by the sound of plates clattering, spoons hitting dishes, and light chatter blending together.
For a moment, I didn't open my eyes.
Then reality slowly returned.
Dinner.
My eyes flew open.
And the first thing I saw was him.
Sitting directly across from me.
My entire body froze.
For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.
Adrien.
Right here. In front of me.
While I was...
Oh crap.
I immediately became aware of myself.
My hair was probably a mess. My clothes were definitely wrinkled. And there was a very high possibility I looked completely ridiculous while asleep.
This was not how this was supposed to happen.
"You're awake."
His voice pulled me out of my inner turmoil.
I looked at him, and that was when I noticed the subtle tilt of his lips.
"I..."
My voice failed me.
I turned my head slowly.
Behind me, Dad and Martha were at the kitchen counter, completely unaware of the internal crisis happening a few feet away.
My eyes narrowed at the man behind it all.
How could he have let me sleep?
Absolute betrayal from my own father.
I couldn't even glare at him properly because his back was turned.
I turned, took a deep breath and shut my eyes for a moment.
I opened them again and looked at Adrien, he was exactly where he had been.
His dark eyes, hidden behind the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, had never left me.
His arms were crossed casually over his chest.
And that small, amused smile was still there.
He obviously found this funny.
"I'm gonna go...uhm, shower," I drew the chair back hastily, causing the legs to make a loud scraping sound against the floor.
Just great.
"Be right back," I added quickly.
I don't even know why I said that.
It wasn't like he was waiting for me.
Adrien didn't reply. Not that I was expecting him to.
His gaze remained on me, steady and unreadable, until I disappeared down the hallway.
The moment I stepped into my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it.
My hands immediately went to my chest.
My heartbeat was loud.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to understand what exactly was happening to me.
I had no idea why my body reacted this way every time I saw him.
It wasn't like I could control it.
He's just a man.
I repeated the words in my head.
Just. A. Man.
A very calm, mysterious, ridiculously good-looking man with a voice that somehow managed to throw me off balance every single time.
I groaned.
That did not help.
I quickly pushed away from the door and headed toward the bathroom before my thoughts could spiral any further.
A quick shower later, I stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear.
I settled for something simple—a soft cream sweater and blue jean shorts. I left my hair loose, only brushing it until it fell naturally around my shoulders.
It had grown out a little since coming to Nebraska, and I kind of liked it.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Subpar.
But presentable.
Good enough for me.
I grabbed the door handle and prepared to go face him again.
•••