44 Chapter 15 - Why do I have to hide from your grandma? (2)

A U T U M N

"She's gone." I heard his voice before I could see him, standing in front of the bush I was hiding. "Come on, you can come out now."

I put my hands on my knees and pushed myself up. "Damn." My knees felt weak after thirty minutes of squatting down behind the bush. It was a miracle that I didn't fall asleep while waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" He put one hand on my arm, trying to support me in case I fell.

I gave him a firm nod. "I'm okay." One thing about my family, the Summers, was that we didn't like showing our weaknesses. Being part of the family, I was stubborn enough to act tough no matter the circumstances.

Phraser looked at me as if he didn't believe me for one second. Still holding my arm, he led me away from the house. We walked across the yard towards a small house on the far side of the main house. "Why did I have to hide from your grandma?"

He looked at me as if I just asked the dumbest question ever. "Did you forget my story about her throwing girls out?"

Oh, right. "Oh."

"I don't know what her problem is but she always wants me to be that perfect grandson." He shook his head. "She wants me to be well-mannered and keep my dick in my pants."

I nearly laughed at the last part. "Isn't that a good thing?" From what I heard, he left a line of broken heart girls around Columbia and Manhattan.

"Does an arranged marriage sound good to you?" asked him with a sigh.

I lifted one brow, unsure of what he meant by that. "What?"

"As a dowager duchess, she thinks she has the right to manage everyone's lives." We reached the guest house and Phraser fished out a set of keys to unlock the door. "Why else do you think my parents' marriage failed?"

He held the door open and I stepped inside. "Do you live here alone?"

There was a couch on the right side of the room with a flat-screen TV placed on the wall in front of it. A pool table placed on the right side, with the kitchen at the of what looked like a small hallway. There were two doors, one on each side of the hallway. One of them must lead to a bedroom, while the other was probably a bathroom or toilet.

"Yeah. Corbin stays at the main house." Phraser shrugged off his coat and put it on the stand by the door. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Yeah. Water would be fine." I followed him to the kitchen. His kitchen was massive. If I were a chef, I would jump on my two feet in joy considering he had all the necessary equipment in his kitchen. "Do you cook?" I asked out of curiosity.

He looked like he wasn't going to answer me but in the end, he gave me a small, wary nod.

I gasped. "Really?" I narrowed my eyes as I watched him took a bottle of water from the fridge. "Boiling water or heating stuff on the microwave doesn't count as cooking."

He handed the bottle to me and rolled his eyes. "I can cook. Not as good as Gordon fucking Ramsay, but I can cook."

I twisted the cap and took a drink. "Uh-huh. Like what?" I could feel my stomach churn but I ignored it.

He leaned on the kitchen counter. "Like pasta and soufflé."

I shook my head in disbelief. "No way."

He shrugged. "I only cook things that I like to eat." He sounded like he was telling the truth. I guessed I simply had to take his words for it.

My stomach felt weird. Maybe another sip would help. "Why?" I took a long drink and put the cap back on.

He folds his arms across his chest as he answered, "One time when I was in a restaurant, I complained about their soufflé. The chef came and told me that I shouldn't be complaining since I didn't even know how to make one." He lifted one shoulder. "I learned how to bake a proper soufflé so next time someone told me I don't know what I'm talking about, I can tell them that I actually do."

The water didn't help. I could feel it traveled from my stomach all the way up to my throat. The urge to vomit was so strong and before I could ask him where was the bathroom, I made a clown out of myself and vomited right in his kitchen. I heard his rapid footsteps as I bend down. I was so sure he ran the other way and regretted ever bringing me here.

* * *

Surprisingly, he didn't run the other way. He rushed to my side. He held my hair back with one hand as he asked, "are you alright?"

I shook my head and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Damn. I really need to stop drinking."

He led me to the bathroom where I could clean up. I heard a knock on the door and swung the bathroom door open. "Here." He handed me a small towel and a dark grey T-shirt. "You got some on your clothes. You should go ahead and change."

I put the towel under my arm and held the shirt with two hands. It was big, so big. I slid my gaze back to him and he scratched his head. "Yeah, it's my shirt. I don't have any sister so I can't steal her clothes for you." He smirked as he added, "I can steal Corbin's if you want."

I giggled. "It's fine. This one is fine."