Page 6 of Rumor Has It

“I’m glad you like them. It’s a family recipe. I won a blue ribbon with it at the county fair. And I eat between meals because I’m surrounded by food all day long, but it’s rare for me to eat a meal at mealtime.” Cassidy notes how early she gets up to bake for the guests who take continental breakfast. After that comes brunch. She also creates gourmet sandwiches to order for anyone who is having a picnic.

“Where do they picnic?”

“The winery mostly.”

“There’s a winery here?” My brow raises. I didn’t pay attention to much in the dark.

“There’s a lot at Kingsbrier,” she chuckles.

I like her laugh and I think she’s right. I’ve found more than I expected.

“So, what do you make for dinner?” I want Cassidy to keep talking.

“Nothing!” She leans back with a broad grin. “I’m done cooking around three when I pass the canapés off to the bartender for cocktail hour.”

“And then?” What does she eat? Where does she go?

“If I’m lucky, I get a nap. Sometimes there’s an appointment or I go hang out with Bellamy or my cousins. If I wander out of my room, the guests assume I’m available for them to talk to.”

I feel a sudden twinge of guilt for making her stay. “You want to get out of here?” I promised Gatlin I’d fend for myself.

“Not in particular. I mean, you made the coffee. Which puts you into the top ten best guests.”

“I don’t mean to sound like an egomaniac, but how do I make it to number one?”

Cassidy leans forward, resting her chin on a fist. “I don’t mean to fluff your feathers, Mister-my-single’s-at-number-one, but I don’t recall assigning an actual number.”

“Would getting breakfast for you increase my rank? If I weren’t already your number one.”

Cassidy’s head bobs from left to right. “There’s a definite possibility. Are you prepared to show off your culinary skills? I’d put on an apron before cooking if you are. Grease splatters.” Her swirling finger points at my bare chest.

Oh yeah, that.I grimace, though hanging out half naked with Cassidy hasn’t been as awkward as it could’ve been.

I pull out my phone, scrolling to see what’s available for delivery. “Hard truth. Not only can I not cook, I’m not embarrassing myself by trying.”

“You don’t say?”

“But,” I punch a few buttons to order. “I know how to do laundry.”

“That’s impressive.”

I grab the back of my neck, uneasy. “I spilled on my shirt recording an interview with Gatlin that’s supposed to air after the New Year.” I leave off that it happened because, since Kylie’s accident, I’ve become anxious about talking to anyone. Cassidy’s cousin is one of the few in the industry I trust. Even so, my people sent Gatlin a list of topics to avoid. “Anyhow, my shirtfront is still damp. Is there a clothes dryer I can use while we wait for the food to arrive?”

Cassidy doesn’t make me feel foolish for food missing my mouth. Instead, she asks, “Is what you’re serving me for breakfast a secret?”

“Can’t it be a surprise?”

“Why not? The first surprise of the day was a welcome one.”

For me, too.

Cassidy shows me a washer/dryer set in the backroom where she disappeared to earlier and came back zipped to her chin in the sweatshirt. It looks like another kitchen of some sort. I’m the slightest put out when Cassidy busses the empty plates and cups to the sink. Part of why is that I should have done it. The other part happens as we leave the kitchen and round the corner to the staircase. We’ve been talking for over an hour and I’ve enjoyed her company. Even the idea of a minute break from having her around is bothersome.

Cassidy’s lure is likely as simple as I’ve spent too much time on my own recently.

When we part at the top of the staircase, she tells me she’s getting washed up and will be downstairs in twenty minutes and enters her room. On my way to mine, I try to shake it off the attraction I have to her. The problem is, I hear water running through the pipes as I jog back down the steps to toss my shirt in the dryer. The idea of Cassidy wet and naked makes me envious of the water falling over her while she showers.

I travel with a small toiletry bag. While my shirt is drying, I give my pits a swipe of deodorant. I’ll wash up the rest of the way after the food is delivered. I’m also certain I’ll have inappropriate visions of Cassidy when I finally do.

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