Free Charming the Firefighter by Beth Andrews Page B

for...ah...” He pulled a plate from the cupboard. “Found it. Silverware?”
    “Are you certain you don’t want to open and shut every drawer?” she heard herself ask, then was appalled, not only that she’d say something so blatantly rude and antagonistic, but that she’d sounded so petulant doing so.
    But she’d already had one stranger rummaging through her personal items—as personal as kitchenware could be. Her patience was threadbare.
    “I could,” he said, not sounding the least bit bothered by her rudeness. “But it’ll save us both time if you just tell me.”
    “Next to the dishwasher,” she muttered. Where else would they be? It was the most convenient place for them.
    He pulled out a fork, knife and serving spoon, then walked toward her. He set the plate in front of her, laid down the silverware and began opening containers.
    Maybe she was still in shock. Or tipsier than she’d originally thought, because she sat there like a helpless idiot and let him pile food onto a plate. Noticing that the potato and taco salads were touching, she grabbed the plate and pulled it out of his reach. Used the fork to separate her food.
    “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “But you really don’t have to do this.”
    “That’s what neighbors do. They help each other. Good neighbors, anyway.”
    Which let Penelope know, in a quiet yet still scolding way, that she was not being a good neighbor. Or, at least, a polite one. Shame filled her. See? She was horrible at this, this whole...social interaction thing. “I prefer to handle things on my own.”
    It was safer that way. No one could let you down if you didn’t depend on them. And you couldn’t disappoint them, either.
    “Today,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to.”
    A lump formed in her throat and she dropped her gaze. She was being rude. Rude and inconsiderate and, worse, ungrateful, while he treated her with nothing but kindness.
    She shouldn’t want his sympathy. Surely she shouldn’t be soaking it in, but it wasn’t so horrible, letting someone else take the lead. Especially when she was so far out of her element. At work, she was fine dealing with people. She had her position and behaved accordingly. There were clear rules and guidelines of what was and wasn’t acceptable behavior.
    Personal relationships—whether casual or intimate—were different. It was too difficult to discern her role.
    “Why are you doing this? I mean, beyond the good neighbor reason. This—” she gestured toward the food “—seems to go beyond the boundaries of your job description.” She didn’t consider herself a suspicious person, but she was old enough, and wise enough, to realize good deeds often came with strings attached.
    “Because I’m a nice guy. And because it really is my job to make sure you’re okay.”
    Of course. What did she think? That he wanted to spend more time with her? That he was flirting with her?
    She was way too pragmatic for such nonsense. While she didn’t underestimate her physical charms, she wasn’t a great beauty by any means. Nor did she possess the type of overt sexuality that inspired flirtatious banter, longing looks or heated seduction. Especially from a man several years younger and at least three steps above her on anyone’s looks scale.
    Not that it bothered her. Much.
    “Go on,” he continued with a nod toward her plate. “Take a few bites for me.”
    Her eyes narrowed. She could do without that condescending tone, but if the only way to get rid of him was to eat, she’d gladly lick the plate clean.
    “Would you care to join me?” she muttered, sounding about as ungracious and inhospitable as one could get. Sounding, she realized with an inner sigh, like Andrew.
    Leo sent her a lethal grin and she couldn’t help but think he was laughing at her. “Thanks, but I ate earlier at my folks’ place.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the slight bruise at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, my jaw’s