The man's eyes watched her as she settled on a chair close to the table. "Where's your sister?" He suddenly asked. Not because he cared but because he was already devouring Isabella in his mind and wondered where her sister was.
"In her room," Isabella answered and tore the fried dough to eat it with the sauce she made.
"So how is it?" He asked after she planted it in her mouth.
"It's okay but I didn't get the chance to taste yours so I can know if I did well," she pouted.
"Let me taste it," he decided to help out and after tasting it, he smiled.
"Admitting it's okay will crash my ego but the truth is good. You did well, seems it true that you love cooking," he made her victorious.
Isabella loved this part of Luke, and his mother was right, he wasn't so bad. He just had this pride and ego which made him look so arrogant.
"I'll leave now," he stood up.
"Aren't you drinking?" Isabella asked, following him with her eyes.
