Page 34 of Just My Luck

He didn’t look me in the eye. “I’m fine.”

My lips pursed. “You just seem . . . jumpy.”

The glass pan rattled as he placed it on the oven rack. “I’m not jumpy. I’m just—” He blew a stream of breath from his mouth and pinched his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Nerves tittered through me. I lowered my voice so the kids wouldn’t hear our conversation. “Look, if this is too much, you have to tell me. Just say it.”

His dark eyes whipped to mine. “It’s not that. It’s not you or the kids. I just—” His shoulders slumped. “Sometimes I bake when I feel out of sorts.”

My eyes went wide as realization dawned on me. “Are you telling me you’re astress baker?”

His eyes went flat, and he shot me an annoyed glare. “I didn’t say that.”

I grinned. “Yes you did.” I took a small sip of coffee. “If it’s not us, then tell me why you’re stressed.”

Abel leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed.

“I made an appointment to meet with my father to discuss the brewery. I’d like to officially introduce you two.”

My face twisted. “You had to make an appointment to talk to your dad?”

Sadness flickered across his face. “Yeah.”

“When?” I hid my own nerves by taking another generous gulp of coffee.

“Today. I was going to tell you but needed to work up the sack to do it. If you’re too busy or need more notice, it’s fine. I?—”

“No,” I interrupted. “It’s totally fine. It’s what we agreed to. I’ll do it. Granddad was eager to take the twins to the marina, so I am free most of the day.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed, but after a moment his deep-brown eyes met mine. “Thank you.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “We’re in this together, remember?”

Abel swallowed hard. “I remember.”

Russell King had a reputation, and clearly Abel was concerned about how this conversation was going to play out. I hopped off the counter and swiped my mug to get ready for the day. “Don’t worry, boss. I can show up, shut up, and wear beige.”

“Don’t.” His insistent tone made me pause as his dark eyes raked over me. “Just show up as you.”

My innards went gooey. I hid a small smile behind my coffee cup and headed toward the bedroom.

I had taken over a small section of the primary bedroom’s walk-in closet. Abel’s shirts and jeans hung in tidy rows along one side. My fingers grazed down the sleeve of the suit he’d worn to our wedding, and I smiled. I hadn’t realized it then, but the fact he thought to dress up made me feel special.

I glanced down at the slim band around my finger.I married him wearing jeans.

Scanning my clothes, I considered the fact Abel wanted me to dress as myself. Being friends with Sylvie, I’d been introduced to Russell King, but only in passing. Even I understood that being officially introduced to him as Abel’s wife carried weight.

Instead of my go-to denim cutoffs, I opted for a pair of slim tapered pencil slacks in a mossy-green shade. For my top, I pulled a sleeveless cream-colored blouse with a high ruffle neck and tone-on-tone cream stripes from the hanger.

After tucking my top into the pants and adding a slim belt, I slipped into a pair of sandals and looked in the full-length mirror. It certainly wasn’tallbeige.

I looked at myself from several angles, and once I was satisfied that I looked like me, but a slightly refined version, I fluffed my hair and went in search of Abel.

He hadn’t bothered to change out of his dark denim jeans, work boots, and T-shirt. His eyes moved up my body from my painted toes to my face before stopping.

I held out my hands. “I got nervous,” I explained. “I opted for Sloane 2.0. You said to be myself, so you get the full Sloane experience.”

“It’s perfect. Ready?” Abel turned toward the door.

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