Chapter 16

Hailey's POV

As we walked out of the supermarket, Connor abruptly halted at the exit, then he looked at me, saying, "Hand over the groceries."

I stared at him, taken aback by his sudden offer.

Before I could respond, he had already seized the shopping bag from me with a firm grip.

"Connor, I..." I wanted to say that I could handle it myself, but he just glanced at me, saying, "Let's go, don't keep Grandpa waiting."

I had no choice but to keep up with his pace.

When we got in the car, he suddenly broke the silence with a short and direct question, "Are you cold?"

I paused for a moment before shaking my head, "No, I'm good."

He nodded and didn't say anything more, but I caught his fleeting glimpse at the thermometer as if verifying my answer.

Quietly observing him, I found something different—he seemed to shed some of his air of superiority and looked more genuine.

Soon we arrived. With the groceries just purchased in hand, we walked into the villa together.

Frank was already there, seated on the sofa in the living room. His gaze lifted from the newspaper as we walked in, and a flicker of satisfaction crossed his eyes at the sight of us.

"You're back." His voice rang out with delight.

"Yes, we went to buy something for dinner," I replied, trying to make my tone relaxing and cheerful.

Frank's gaze shifted as if he were probing for the connection between us. Then, with a gentle tone, he remarked, "Shopping together is a wonderful chance to get to know each other better."

I smiled and nodded, while Connor remained silent, merely grunting in response, his stance ambiguous.

"How are you liking it here? Is everything okay for you?" Frank asked with concern.

I looked at Connor, who still looked indifferent, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me for a moment.

I turned back and smiled at Frank, telling a white lie, "Yeah, I'm doing just fine. No need to worry. "

With that, I set about preparing dinner. Connor also followed me to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and watching me busy working.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked, his voice tinged with an unusual hesitancy.

I was somewhat surprised, after all, he hardly seemed the culinary type. I said, "Are you sure? The kitchen might not be your comfort zone."

He shrugged, "I can be of help."

After some thought, I decided to let him help with the chopping work. "Could you chop these vegetables?"

He nodded and took the vegetables and knife I handed him, commencing to his job carefully. His cutting skill was far from proficient, but every cut was deliberate, like he had always been, focused and dedicated.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Noticing my amusement, he raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "Anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, I just didn't expect you to be so..." I searched for the proper expression, "so intent on chopping vegetables."

"I may not have been skilled at cooking, but I wasn't completely useless," Connor retorted.

After finishing chopping the vegetables, he stood quietly to the side.

Meanwhile, I was busy preparing dinner.

I covered a baking tray with aluminum foil, placed the marinated steak on top, sprinkled some coarse salt and black pepper over it, and slid it into the preheated oven.

Then, I heated some olive oil in a pan and quickly stir-fried the chopped onions and mushrooms until they turned golden and released their delightful aroma.

Connor watched me with rapt attention as I expertly cooked, eventually asking, "Do you cook frequently?"

I smiled and replied, "Yes, I started cooking at a young age. In the Mountain Pack, I learned to fend for myself."

"Have you always been self-reliant?" His voice carried a subtle, almost imperceptible softness.

I nodded, my hands continuing their tasks, and replied, "Of course, if not myself, who else can I rely on?"

He fell silent, watching as I completed, and assisted me in carrying the dishes to the table.

The dinner was a feast. Frank and I both enjoyed our meal, feeling content.

Little attention was paid to Connor.

After dinner, I thought Frank would leave shortly, but he seemed to have other plans.

He proposed an unexpected suggestion.

"What do you say we play some poker?" Frank said, with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

I was a little surprised and turned to Connor, waiting for his response.

After all, I rarely saw him engage in such family-oriented entertainment.

I left feeling simply surprised because Connor only hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement.

"Let's keep it simple with Texas Hold'em," Frank suggested, his tone indicating a familiarity with poker.

Then, we started our game, and our conversation flowed.

Connor appeared more relaxed than usual during the game, and he even showed a rare smile after a successful hand.

Not until Frank rose to leave did I realize it was late at night.

Connor said to me, trying to be casual, "It's too late, and there are no buses nearby. Just stay here tonight."

I hurriedly said, "I knew it, so I borrowed a bike from Vernon. I left it outside, and I can ride it back."

Hearing my words, his face immediately darkened.

Not knowing what he was thinking, I just waved goodbye to him and said, "I'm leaving now. Goodnight."