Page 79 of Just Like Home

“Sounds decadent.”

She shifted. This wasn’t a good topic for her. Her head spun back in time to the day Marcia caught her with a canister of peanut butter and a whole package of chocolate pudding Snack Packs. Her mom had been livid, launching into a heated diatribe about the perils of junk food and why ballerinas weren’t ever allowed to eat it, and then she took Charlotte to the gym and made her run on the treadmill for an hour straight.

She hadn’t had sugar since.

“It’s always been my job to stay in shape.” She didn’t know what else to say—this was why she was considered an “elite” athlete. She didn’t do things that made sense to other people. He probably thought she was a freak.

“Like Tom Brady,” he said.

She frowned.

“I mean, he has a really strict regimen and look at him.” Cole cut through four asparagus spears. “I can respect that.”

“Are you comparing me to Tom Brady?”

He glanced at her, smirked, then looked away, moving around the kitchen like he knew what he was doing. She sat at the island, watching, finding this dance he did in front of her surprisingly relaxing. And hot. She couldn’t deny it. Watching a solid, athletic, masculine man like Cole cook a dinner that was clearly designed for her—well, it did something to her on the inside.

She told herself to knock it off. Told herself Cole was not her type. Told herself she didn’t evenlikethe man.

So why did she find it impossible to stop looking at him?

Unlike most people, Cole seemed to only speak when he had a reason to. He didn’t fill the space with chatter, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with the same silence that had her insides twisting in a knot.

She resisted the urge to ask him why he’d come in the first place, assuming at some point he’d tell her.

“Where are the plates?” he asked, pulling her from her unwanted thoughts.

She started to stand, but he quickly interrupted.

“Just point me in the right direction,” he said kindly. “I’ll get them.”

She sat back down and pointed in the direction of a cabinet to the left of the sink. Who was this man? He was wholly different than the Cole she’d grown to expect.

He pulled out two plates, and that’s when she realized they were about to have a meal together. Of course they were about to have a meal together—what did she think—he was making the food just for her?

He’d said he hadn’t eaten. He was making dinnerfor two.

The thought of sitting across from him while they ate in awkward silence turned her palms cold and sweaty.

He plated the food, set the pans down, and took a step back.

“What’s it called?” she asked.

“Chicken Scaloppine with sugar snap peas, asparagus, and lemon salad.”

She frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“It just doesn’t seem like something you’d eat,” she said.

“Well, I made it for you.” His face turned serious.

His words had an unexpected effect on her heart—one she wasn’t prepared for. He had made it for her, she’d known this. But learning that he tailored what he made to what he thought she would like stirred something in her bones.

And that might’ve been the moment she knew that spending time with Cole Turner was dangerous. For her heart. If this kept up, the cranky football coach was likely to win her over.

Why did that make her nervous? Now that she had the time and was trying to change her life, should she at least consider romance?

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