I groaned. “I thought we were going to pretend last night didn’t happen?”
He mimed zipping his lips, but his damn smile was still stretched wide across his face. I waved goodbye and ran the hell out of there. I didn’t even stop when Dad shot me a curious look at how frantically I was trying to escape the B&B.
It was only when I was inside my car, and all buckled up, that I let myself stop for a second to think. I banged my head on my steering wheel. Maybe if I did that hard enough, I could smack the last twenty-four hours out of existence.
A second later, I didn’t feel like I shifted into a different timeline, so the whole head-banging thing probably didn’t work.
It was fine. Everything would be fine.
I’d take the afternoon to myself, get everything on the list, and come back acting like nothing was wrong.
I wouldnotoverreact!
But first things first, food.
I grabbed a burger at our local diner—which thankfully was served quickly—then headed to the local grocery store to do some shopping. It was a few hours later that I finished getting everything on the list and once again filled my car with bags. My poor car and I were getting a workout today.
Dinner at the B&B was busier than lunch, with some guests tired from a long day out and wanting something chill. The -tagroup was once again in the dining room having an early dinner.
This time, they’d dragged some of our other guests to their table. It was a young couple who’d checked in for a long weekend trip. They listened to Marta with amusement as she recounted her youthful adventures.
I quickly slipped into the kitchen with the bags, not wanting to catch their attention. I was usually the social butterfly, always down to have conversations with our guests.
People were interesting, and I enjoyed hearing about their life experiences, but today, I was all peopled out. It didn’t help that my body still felt like lead.
I was never drinking that much again.
“Oh, hey. Welcome back,” Andy said, looking up from his workspace when I walked into the kitchen. He had something simmering on the burner, making the whole place smell like a cozy dream.
“Hey, what are you cooking up?” I asked as I dropped the bags on an empty counter.
“Just some chicken noodle soup. You looked tired earlier, and I figured you might still be a little hungover from ‘the night we won’t speak of,’” he said. That teasing smile was back again, but I couldn’t even be mad.
“You made soup for me?” I asked. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But it’s slow tonight, and I had all the ingredients,” he said. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel, ladled some soup in a bowl, added a bit of green garnish on top, and then handed it to me.
“That’s so fucking sweet. I don’t even know what to say.”
This gesture was so unexpected that I didn’t know how to react. So I accepted the bowl he held out and filled mysenses with the mouthwatering aroma. How did he make it smell so good?
I discreetly wipe away my drool, hoping I wasn’t, once again, making a fool of myself in front of this man.
Andy chuckled and handed me a spoon. I settled on a stool that was tucked in a corner. “Your reaction is all the thanks I need. Though, if you have some time, I’d love it if you could look over the tentative menu I created. I want to make sure I don’t have anything too out of pocket.”
“That, I can do,” I said, then dug in. I’d had chicken noodle soup before, but his soup made all the previous ones pale in comparison. I never knew soup could be sohealingand flavorful at the same time.
A moan sounded in the kitchen, and it was only when I heard Andy’s chuckle that I realized the sound was coming from me.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he commented as he continued putting the grocery items away. I tried to hide my blush by gulping down the rest of the liquid. “Want another bowl?”
“Yes, please,” I said sheepishly. “But I can get it myself.”
“It’s fine. Sit. You’ve been running around all day,” he said. He snatched my bowl before I could get out of my seat and refilled it for me.
We didn’t speak as I worked on my second bowl of soup. Instead, I watched him move around the kitchen. He moved fluidly, as though this wasn’t his first time here.
While he wasn’t my usual type, I’d always been attracted to confident men, and the way he moved around like he owned the place had heat pooling in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was just the hot soup warming me up.