“You’ll find I’m a very poor pupil.” Marcus stared at their baking supplies, hands on hips in a disgruntled pose. “What I’ve learned I’ve learned on my own. I don’t take kindly to being told what to do.”
“Then why did you agree to our arrangement?”
For a moment, Marcus only went on with what he’d been doing—frowning the baking powder into submission. Then he shifted his gaze to her face. He shrugged. “I have my reasons,” he said.
Leaving Molly to wonder, for all the rest of that day, exactly what those “reasons” of his really were.
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