Chapter 239

The next afternoon, Luna White took time off work early. Carrying a shopping basket, she headed straight to the market, picking out the freshest lamb blood and beef tripe, along with some ribs and steamed buns. Tonight, she planned to cook Andrew Smith a lavish dinner.

As she reached the dormitory entrance, she spotted a familiar figure kneeling outside the neighboring door—Lily Collins' former mother-in-law. The old woman had learned her lesson this time; instead of making a scene, she knelt there stiffly and silently. Luna smirked inwardly. Lily had already left for her hometown with Phoenix that morning to celebrate the New Year. The old woman's efforts were in vain.

"Dr. Collins has gone back to her hometown. You could kneel here till next year, and it wouldn't change a thing," Luna said before moving to shut the door.

The old woman panicked and scrambled to her feet. "Please, miss, have mercy! Just a cup of hot water?"

Luna closed the door without looking back. She'd seen this act too many times before.

In the kitchen, Luna busied herself with chopping vegetables. She sliced the lamb blood thinly, cleaned and blanched the beef tripe. Her movements were swift and practiced, and soon she had all the ingredients ready for the spicy blood stew.

A knock sounded at the door.

Wiping her hands, Luna went to answer it. Andrew stood on the threshold, a large bag in hand, his face flushed from the cold wind.

"Come in, quick!" Luna pulled him inside.

The moment he stepped in, Andrew wrapped his arms around her. Luna pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Though he still carried the chill from outside, his embrace was so warm she never wanted to leave it.

"Miss me?" he murmured.

Luna nodded, her face heating up. "I did."

"Really?" he teased.

"Really!" She wriggled out of his arms and darted into the kitchen like a startled rabbit. "Dinner's almost ready."

Andrew set down his bag and immediately noticed the five large boxes in the living room—gifts from Charles Turner. His eyes narrowed slightly as he walked to the kitchen doorway.

"How's Mr. Turner doing?" he asked casually.

"He's recovering well," Luna replied without looking up, stirring the sizzling pan.

Andrew stepped closer and took the spatula from her hand. "Let me handle this."

Luna handed him the freshly steamed buns. "Andrew, take these out."

"Call me Andy," he insisted.

"Andy..." she muttered under her breath, shoving the plate into his hands.

Their fingers brushed accidentally, and Andrew suddenly caught her wrist, his thumb tracing slow circles over her pulse point. Luna's face burned crimson.

"The—the oil's going to burn!" she stammered, yanking her hand free.

Andrew chuckled low and carried the plate away. Luna touched her flaming cheeks, her heart pounding so hard it felt ready to leap out of her chest. She was finding it harder and harder to resist this man's charm.

The rich aroma of spicy blood stew mingled with the sweet tang of braised ribs filled the kitchen. Luna took a deep breath and plated the final dish. Tonight was bound to be anything but ordinary.