Renee walked in with a curious expression and asked, “What can I help you with?”

Mr. Q was wearing disposable plastic gloves in both hands. He was marinating the steaks with a secret sauce.

“Help me wear the apron, please. My hands are occupied.”

He gestured to an apron hanging on the cabinet with his chin, giving out the command naturally.

“Help you… put on the apron?”

Renee felt a moment of awkwardness. She hesitated and did not move.

This kind of action was way too intimate. Wasn’t this usually something that only couples would do?

Mr. Q turned around and looked at her flatly. “Is something wrong? Are you… shy?”

“Of course not!”

to grab the apron and moved behind him. She had to tiptoe to put the apron over his head. She pretended to be nonchalant and said, “I’m a divorced woman. I’ve experienced everything

the waistband neatly. She patted the man’s back

Q’s face was ruined, his body was top-notch. He had wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and firm muscles. His body was on par

other trees in the forest. Her vision was seriously too narrow in the past. Her eyes could see no one else

were comparable to Stefan, even Isaac, the escort

Mr. Q set the timer to wait for the sauce

off his plastic gloves and casually grabbed a kiwi to make a fruit yogurt

it with a

and see if

“Umm…”

warily. She was not used to being so intimate with a man. She awkwardly took the spoon and said, “I

curled into a weird smile. “I thought you’re a divorced woman who has experienced

being conservative. It’s called a sense of boundaries – a sense of

and put on

my god, this is so good. Who would have thought that a burly man like you would have such delicate skills? You truly are “Beach City’s

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