Page 15 of All You Need Is Love

Shannon placed the two Oreo-looking cookies onto the platter. “Hi.” In white shorts and a hot-pink ruffled top, hair pulled back in a loose braid, and simple hoop earrings adorning her ears, she looked sweetly sexy. “What are you doing in here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He shuffled across the white tile floor toward her. “The party’s out there.”

“Yes, I know.” Her tone teased him. Despite her initial reaction, maybe she was getting comfortable with him after all. “I helped to plan it, remember?” With movements that seemed effortless, she pulled desserts from each plate and, one at a time, consolidated them onto the platter in front of her.

He cocked his head as he drew nearer, breathing in the scent of sugar and flour and … was that watermelon? He’d noticed the smell earlier today, taunting him as the breeze had blown up off the water to where they’d sat on the bench, planning Thursday’s picnic. She must use a fruit-scented shampoo or something. Marshall got the strangest urge to wrap his arms around her from behind and nuzzle his nose into her hair.

But he wasn’t creepy like that, so he stayed put.

“Can I help you with something?” She glanced up at him, her nose scrunched.

Whoa. He was way closer than he’d intended to be. Taking a step back, he plucked a cookie from the plate. “I needed a breather.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you dessert would spoil your dinner?” Her lips quirked as she continued working.

“She did.” Thinking about his mom, even for a moment, pinched his chest. “But would it surprise you to learn that I didn’t listen?”

Shannon glanced up at him, pushing a tendril of hair that had fallen from her braid out of her face. “Actually, yes. You seem like the kind of guy who follows the rules.”

If only she knew …

What would she say if he told her why he was really here?

She’d never talk to him again, that’s what. And he’d lose his shot at having Quinn’s recommendation.

Needing a distraction, Marshall took a bite of the cookie in his hand, then immediately groaned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing worse than getting oatmeal raisin when you were expecting chocolate chip.”

Shannon’s laugh lilted through the kitchen, through Marshall’s whole being, and he realized his headache was no more. Something about watching her nimble fingers work, about just being in her presence, was more effective than ibuprofen.

What was she doing? As he finished off his cookie and watched her work in silence, he saw a pattern emerge on the platter. She’d taken darker desserts and used them to create a starburst that began at the center and worked its way outward in rays like the sun.

“I’ve never seen such artistry in cookie plating before.”

She shrugged a shoulder, feigning nonchalance—but her reddening cheeks gave away her pleasure at his compliment. “I know we could put the platters out as they are, but I want everything to look as pretty as possible. After all, it’s a special time.”

“I’d offer to help, but I’m afraid I’d do just the opposite.”

“No worries. I’m almost done.”

Quirking an eyebrow, he pivoted and glanced around the kitchen. How had he not noticed the platters sitting on the countertop before now? Walking over, he examined them, each one with a different design—flowers, hearts, diamonds, and more.

“These are great.” He turned back to face her. “But doesn’t it bother you that your family probably won’t even notice the patterns?”

“I’m used to it.” Shannon gave a sad smile before returning her attention to the last platter. “Besides, that’s not why I do it.”

“So why then?” Marshall pulled out a chair and sat in it backward, looping his arms over the top and setting his chin on the top of his hands.

Pausing, Shannon fixed him with a stare, her lips swung to the side, forehead crinkled in what appeared to be concentration. “It’s enough to simply create beauty. It doesn’t matter if no one else acknowledges it. That doesn’t change the fact it’s there.”

He whistled. Beautiful and deep. “I like that sentiment.” Marshall scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “It’s just so different from the way I was raised.”

“And how was that?”

“My dad didn’t really care about making things beautiful. He’s an attorney and used to be a state senator, which of course is a lot to live up to. And he was always pushing me to be better, to achieve more.” Marshall paused, an ache he’d shoved down more times than he could count re-emerging to rub his heart raw. “I’m his only kid, so I get it. But he was always riding my tail, until …”

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