Love Until Death Do Us Part novel Chapter 8

Newman scoffed, thinking he wasn't the same guy he was five years ago, all bristly and prickly. But standing in front of Athena, that icy, fierce streak in his bones just spilled out again.

Being bossed around like a servant was no fun, and Athena could totally feel that the dude had turned into a full-on deep freeze machine.

Getting Newman to whip up some soup was just the first step in her plan to make him her errand boy. She was hell-bent on paying back tenfold the misery he once inflicted on her.

Baring his teeth, Newman grunted an agreement, "Alright, just you wait!"

He dipped into the hot springs first to check on Payne. The mist swirled around Payne's cute, rosy cheeks, fluttering his long, brush-like lashes. He cracked open his eyes, focusing his gaze and whispered, "Daddy?"

Newman took Payne's little arm, thumb gently pressing into his palm to keep his fingers from cramping up from all the stiffness.

He told Kent, "That Athena agreed to let us crash at Mystic Ridge Villa."

Kent was over the moon. Sure enough, there was nothing Newman couldn't handle! If he couldn't win Athena over the first time, he'd just have to try a second time!

Kent jubilantly told Payne, "There’s hope! Mr. Bradshaw's pulled you back from death's door again!"

Kent sang Newman's praises, "Mr. Bradshaw, you are the man! No one can say no to what you ask for!"

That bossy, brash Athena who stormed in earlier had, after a couple words with Newman, willingly handed over Mystic Ridge Villa!

Without lingering, Newman stepped out of the hot springs and instructed Kent, "Give Payne another half-hour soak."

Kent nodded, "Sure thing," only to hear Newman, once out of the water, asking the villa's security, "Where's the kitchen?"

Was Newman actually going to cook for Payne himself? Feeling for the guy's fatigue, Kent said, "Mr. Bradshaw, let the help cook instead."

Newman's voice was chilly as ever, "I'm off to cook for Ms. Dempsey."

Kent was like, "???"

When Newman walked into the dining room with the food, Athena was already sitting at the table, laptop on one side, phone in hand, busily chatting with her assistant.

Newman came over and set the plate in front of her. The aroma wafted up, and Athena involuntarily swallowed, hanging up the phone. She eyed the lunch Newman had served up.

He'd whipped up a seafood pasta dish using kitchen staples - the broth rich, with seaweed, shrimp, pickled bamboo shoots, and veggies.

Athena picked up her fork, speared some pasta, and took a bite. If the help hadn't told her, with video evidence to boot, that Newman had actually been cooking, she wouldn't have believed the pasta came from his hand!

"Not bad, Newman," Athena mused, a bit amazed. Five years back, Newman was pampered, his fingers not soiled by cold water, let alone kitchen work.

Whenever she cooked, he'd nitpick, calling her food terrible even as he forced her to keep cooking for him.

Truth be told, Newman had a knack for cooking, way more than her. To deal with the mess Newman had stirred up at Mystic Ridge, she had skipped breakfast to rush over.

Now, munching on her pasta, Athena asked, "How long you planning on staying at Mystic Ridge Villa?"

"After spring hits Everglade City, I’ll take the kid back to Everglade City."