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!”

show him her cowardly side, so she forced herself 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 before. Why

a bow around the waistband neatly.

He had wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and firm muscles. His body was on par with

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

met after her divorce were comparable to Stefan,

Mr. Q set the timer to wait for the sauce to seep

his plastic gloves and casually grabbed a

poured oat into the fruit yogurt while stirring it with a spoon. He then scooped

this and see

“Umm…”

to being so intimate with a man. She awkwardly took the spoon and said, “I

lips curled into a weird smile. “I thought you’re a divorced woman

conservative. It’s called a sense of boundaries – a sense of boundaries between men

eyebrows and put

not help praising, “Oh my god, this is so good. Who would have thought that a burly man like you would have such delicate skills? You truly

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