Peter nearly choked as he swallowed his mouthful. Did that sourpuss actually smile? Did he really just compliment someone? How was that even possible?
Natalie seemed to take it all in stride, "thank you, if you'd like I can send some home with you later, I always make too much, I'm used to feeding a whole family."
This was fascinating, Peter thought as he sat back watching the two of them chatting. Something about Natalie brought out a side of Hardy that he had never seen. He seemed almost relaxed, friendly and dare he say it? Almost human towards her.
It shouldn't come as a surprise, he mused, after all Natalie was a beautiful, intelligent and friendly woman.
But some part of him didn't like how she seemed to respond to Hardy's attention. She had forsaken her meal to chat with him, they had covered the recipe she had used, and Hardy had managed to feign interest in it.
And now they had moved on to where to get the best Chinese food in the area.
Peter felt suddenly very territorial. He didn't like that Hardy seemed to find her as intriguing as he had when they first met. He wanted to do something to stake his claim on Natalie, put all doubts out of Hardy's mind who she really belonged to, but he kept that urge at bay. Instead he concentrated on his plate, listening to them with an increasingly heavy heart.
He was willing to do a lot, Peter mused, to further his career, but this was where he would draw the line. He was not willing to let Hardy muscle in on his relationship with Natalie, she was the one thing he would not give up with out a fight.
If Hardy felt the tension from Peter's side of the table, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead he prattled on about the one time he had tried to make bolognese himself. Natalie laughed so hard at his description of it coming out tasting like "burnt ketchup with just a hint of rancid skunk" that Peter thought she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.
"Peter's not much of a cook either," Natalie offered once she got her breath back.
"Actually," Peter broke in, "I'm a really good cook. I just haven't had the opportunity to wow you with my skills as of yet."
They both looked at him. Natalie with a slightly embarrassed expression at his protest of her thoughtless words, and Hardy with the look he had come to call, 'laser eyes.' He was used to this unblinking stare from his boss, it was usually followed by some grumbled comment.
This time Hardy asked, "how long have you two been together?"
Peter was surprisingly coy in his answer, "obviously not long enough to demonstrate my talents in the kitchen."
What followed was a period of awkward silence. The quiet broken only by the sound of cutlery on plates and the occasion clink of glassware.
"I admire anyone who can do more than make toast," Hardy finally concluded, "especially if they can do so without burning the house down."
Natalie smiled gratefully at him, "you just need practice. My daughter didn't seem interested, but if you are, I could give you some basic recipes and show you how to make them."
"That might be nice," Hardy replied.
Peter realised he had come off as a bit heavy handed. He had obviously gone too far when it took Hardy to bring the situation back from the brink. Covering he held up the bottle, "more wine, anyone?"
Natalie accepted his offer but Hardy hadn't even taken a sip of his glass so he declined.
As he tried to get himself back under control, it was hard not to giggle at the image of his boss wrapped up in a frilly apron making fairy cakes with shocking pink icing.