Page 68 of Already Home

The various groups then repeated her steps, some with moresuccess than others. She went around and helped, then she and Violet passed outsmall plates and forks so everyone could sample what they’d made.

“You okay?” Violet asked in a low voice.

“Bitterly jealous.”

“Don’t be. He’s enduring, not enjoying.”

Jenna frowned. “How can you tell?”

“Let’s just say I have a lot of experience with reading men’sbody language. See how the blonde is leaning into him?”

Jenna didn’t want to look, but she turned her head anyway. Sureenough, the tall, curvy blonde was all over Ellington. Like white on rice, asher grandmother would say.

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at how he’s standing. He’s leaning away from her, nottoward her, and he has his arms folded. See how the left one is blocking herfrom getting too close?”

Jenna hadn’t noticed that, but now she saw that Violet wasright.

“He’s smiling but he keeps looking at you,” her friendadded.

Sure enough, Ellington glanced in her direction, thenwinked.

Jenna felt the jolt all the way down to her toes. “Have Imentioned how much I adore you?” she asked Violet.

“Just doing my job.”

Jenna laughed. “You’re the best, seriously. I was living in thebad place.”

“No need to go there with Ellington. He’s interested.”

Violet proved to be right. It took nearly an hour for the lastof the customers to leave. The women who’d cooked with Ellington seemeddetermined to leave with him until he said something Jenna didn’t catch. Allthree of them turned to glare at him, then collected their purses and left.

Everyone else bought something from the store. The kits for thespaghetti carbonara all sold quickly. By seven-thirty, Violet was walking towardthe back.

“I’m heading out,” she said. “Cliff’s waiting. See youtomorrow.”

“Night,” Jenna called after her.

Most of the lights were off, the front door was locked, leavingonly her, a lot of pasta and a good-looking guy. Now what?

She turned to find that Ellington had poured them both a glassof wine and served up some pasta.

“From what you made,” he said, handing her both and motioningto the empty chairs. “I wouldn’t trust any of the others.”

“I’m sure they were fine.”

He collected his food and joined her. They sat on foldingchairs, facing each other over the small table that had held the pasta kits.

“You’re a patient teacher,” he said. “You give a lot ofencouragement.”

“I want people to enjoy cooking.”

“You make it look easy.”

“It actually is easy. Once you master a few basic techniquesand procedures, it’s just a matter of practice and finding out what you like toeat.”

“I don’t think so,” he told her, his eyes bright with interest.“I’m a lousy cook.”

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