Chapter 595:
Melany slipped away from Brad and hurried over to her. “I thought I heard you mention Sweetberry on the phone. Was it their executives who contacted you?”
Rylie gave a slight nod. “Yes. Word must have reached them about the main store closing. The senior staff at headquarters want to take me out for a meal.”
Melany cast a wary look back at Brad. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
Sensing her tone, Brad straightened and followed after them.
Dottie had arranged the table with an inviting spread of dishes, fragrant steam rising from the freshly prepared seafood among them. Once everyone gathered, she beamed and urged them on. “Come on, Miss Owen, Mr. Morgan, help yourselves and make yourselves at home!”
The television murmured in the background, broadcasting the latest headlines. Rylie sat beside Melany, with Brad directly across. Their gazes brushed for a fleeting moment before she turned away, quietly reaching for her utensils only after Dottie had taken her seat and begun to eat.
Brad, meanwhile, held himself with the upright bearing of his military days. Even at the warmth of a family table, the discipline in his posture lent him a faint air of rigidity. He quietly took up his fork and knife, his eyes drifting over the spread while his thoughts circled on how to mend things with Rylie.
Dottie’s cooking was as inviting as ever, the broth especially, its surface shimmering with heat as curls of steam rose into the air. Without hesitation, Brad ladled a portion into a bowl and set it before Dottie. “Thank you for all your effort.”
Dottie’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, it’s just cooking. It’s nothing compared to the work you all do.”
“There’s no difference,” Brad replied, lowering the ladle with a soft clink against the pot.
He lingered over the clear broth, hesitating for a beat before lifting the ladle once more, as though his mind had settled on a quiet decision.
Fresh updates loaded gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․cøm
He kept his gaze averted from Rylie as his arm moved with practiced ease, drawing up clear broth while avoiding the oil, placing the bowl quietly at her side. He did it with such casual precision that it seemed almost accidental.
Rylie froze, catching the unexpected bowl in the corner of her vision, her hand stilled halfway toward her plate.
Without offering a word or glance his way, Rylie shifted her utensils and neatly moved a rib onto her plate.
Brad’s eyes dimmed at her quiet dismissal, yet when he noticed her lifting the bowl to sip from it, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He allowed himself a fleeting look at her profile before returning to his own meal, as if nothing had passed between them.
Before long, he reached for his utensils again, selecting a poached shrimp. His hands moved with practiced ease, and with a quick pinch, the shell gave way, revealing the firm, glistening flesh inside.
Without a word, he placed the perfectly coated shrimp on Rylie’s plate. Melany was mid-bite when the sight nearly made her choke. She hurriedly sipped her broth to mask her surprise, her gaze darting between Rylie and Brad as her thoughts tumbled. Who ever claimed Mr. Morgan couldn’t apologize? He was a master at it.
Dottie noticed everything, her smile curving with equal parts amusement and insight. She pretended not to see, warmly saying, “Mr. Morgan, try this roast pork. I’ve cooked it for a long time, it’s very tender.”
.
.
.