Chapter 194 Boundaries Between Men and Women
Winona Sullivan had taken the peeled potatoes to wash them, not realizing there was a slick spot on the floor. Her slippers apparently didn't have a good grip and she had taken a fall.
Before she fell, Winona Sullivan sent bowls and plates crashing off the kitchen counter with a cacophonous clatter.
Matthew Watson, quick on his feet, tried to catch her but ended up feeling his legs go numb from crouching too long. He failed to steady her and tumbled down himself, becoming nothing more than a human cushion in the final moment.
Despite landing on Matthew, the man's body was anything but soft. Years of working out had left him taut and as unforgiving as a tile floor.
Winona felt a dizzying wave wash over her, her head swirling in confusion, unable to make sense of the situation.
Unaware that her face was pressed against Matthew's abs, she was also oblivious to the crowd that had gathered at the kitchen door.
She frowned and shook her head in tiny motions, attempting to dispel the dizziness. However, her subtle movements came off as if she were nuzzling against him.
Matthew lay flat on his back, his hand still on Winona's waist, unconsciously swallowing hard as she moved. It was unclear whether it was pain or something else that made his voice hoarse and nearly inaudible, "Winona, stop moving."
Before she could process what was happening, Winona was yanked out of Matthew's embrace. Although the action was rough, it wasn't painful.
Recognizing her captor, Winona instinctively wanted to distance herself. It seemed she couldn't escape this man's persistent presence, running into him everywhere she went.
Zachary Bailey appeared icy, his jawline taut with a crisp, smooth line, "How much longer were you planning on lying on top of him?"
Matthew had already risen. There were several cuts on his body from the shattered porcelain, slowly seeping blood, but he seemed indifferent to the pain, not sparing a glance.
He approached Zachary, taking Winona's other hand firmly, shedding his usual meekness, "Winona is my guest today, and I won't allow anyone to harass her."
"Harass?"
Matthew didn't back down an inch in the face of Zachary's overpowering aura, "Anyone with eyes can see that Winona is repulsed by your proximity. Isn't your behavior a form of harassment right now?"
He pulled Winona close to him, "Today's dinner is a private affair; we don't have a meal prepared for outsiders. Please leave, Mr. Bailey."
With the air electrified as if sparks were about to ignite, two tall men blocked the narrow kitchen entrance, compressing the already confined space even more.
Seeing the tension, Nova Watson spoke up in an attempt to defuse the situation, "Matthew, Zachary, let's talk this out..."
But her words were left hanging, unheard.
Left with no choice, she turned to Samuel Anderson, hoping he could intervene. They were the same age, and he'd been friends with them for years, so he could probably say things better than she could as an elder.
But when she turned around, Samuel wasn't there. Twisting her head, she found him lounging on the couch, munching an apple. Noticing her glance, he asked, "Aunt Nova, this apple is pretty good, where'd you get it?"
Nova Watson forced a laugh, "If you like it, you can take some home later."
She gave up on counting on him and turned back to the two who were at each other's throats.
Zachary Bailey pulled Winona Sullivan back, "Well, if that's how it is, we won't bother you."
"Do you want me to spell it out for you?" Matthew Watson stood his ground, pulling Winona Sullivan slightly toward himself, "Here, besides you, there's no 'outsider' who needs to leave."
Feeling like a rope in a tug of war, Winona's head felt like it was tied to that red flag right in the middle, "Aren't you two adults? Let go of me."
Matthew Watson, who had a gentle nature and had been soaked in the respectful and polite ways of his parents from a young age, released his grip as soon as Winona spoke. But seeing that Zachary had no intention of letting go, he restrained himself.
Winona's face hardened, "Let go right now, or you can both get out."
It was only after she said that she realized this was the Watson's home and she should be the one to leave, not Matthew, the host.
Zachary Bailey's lips were pursed, and after a long moment, he reluctantly let go.
Seeing him release his grip, Matthew did too.
At this point, Nova Watson was numb to it all, "If you want to eat, go sit in the living room. Winona, help me peel a potato, will you?"
Being the elder, her firm words carried weight. Despite neither Zachary nor Matthew liking each other, they obediently headed out.
Nova closed the kitchen door and surveyed the broken pieces strewn across the floor, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell? It's all my fault for being so careless and not cleaning up the oil right away."
Winona, with a broom in hand, did her best to clean up, "No, I'm fine. It's actually Matthew who got hurt more trying to catch me. Aunt Nova, I'm sorry for this mess."
"The oil that made you slip was my doing, and Zachary came on his own. None of this is on you. Don't take the blame for everything, your mother is just like that..." she paused, "Look at me, bringing that up for no reason."
"Hey Auntie, were you and my mom close back in the day?"
Her mother never seemed to have a best friend to share everything with, which meant that since the incident, apart from the scant info from Carlos, she had no other way to find out more.
"We were both busy in those days. We didn't spend a lot of time together."
Their families were associated mainly because Matthew's grandfather and Winona's grandfather were good friends. She got along fine with Winona's mother but they weren't as close as you'd call best friends.
After Winona's mother died and her grandfather returned to Silverton, the bond between their families just faded.
By the time Winona Sullivan arrived, Nova Watson had nearly finished all the prep work, and cooking was a breeze.
They carried the dishes out to the living room, where Samuel Anderson had already left, and Zachary Bailey and Matthew Watson were sitting on the couch, one on each side, ignoring each other.
With those two ice sculptures there, any hopes for a cheerful meal were dashed. Nova Watson looked at Matthew Watson's blood-stained shirt with a frown. "Why don't you go get that wound treated?"
The wounds on Matthew were superficial; the blood had already clotted, making his light-colored shirt stain broadly—it just looked more horrific than it was, "The cuts are on my back; can't see them."
Nova Watson turned to Winona Sullivan: "Then later let Winona…"
Take you to the clinic for the doctor to apply some medicine.
Before she could finish, Zachary Bailey interjected, "I can dress it. Men shouldn't touch women casually."
He glared at Matthew Watson's deceivingly handsome face. He used to think Matthew was a gentleman with integrity, but now, the more he looked, the more he found him to be a pretentious saint, a so-called gentleman with a mind full of mischief.
Back when their families sent them for training, they'd get worse injuries than this and wouldn't even blink, just wipe it off and keep going, crawling through the mud with weights on. And now Matthew couldn't handle it without medicine?
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