CLAY'S POV
At least she'd put his trashy gifts where they belonged. In the trash.
Anyta sat on the stool behind the kitchen island, her bare feet hooked around the legs like she was anchoring herself there.
I stood on the other side after I forced myself to keep my back turned to her, as I slowly prepared dinner for her. She'd told me not to, but I badly needed something to do in order to clear my head.
The sizzle of the pan was loud in the quiet kitchen. I'd already chopped the garlic, onions, and greens. Anything that required my hands to stay busy.
Well not quite.
I swallowed as I reached for one of the red bell peppers and began cutting.
Anyta cleared her throat softly. “You’re very… aggressive with that knife.”
“I’m cooking,” I answered flatly.
“Mmhmm. You’ve also been ignori
