Page 33 of Falling For You

He kicked the toe of his boot on the outdoor rug and brought his gaze to mine. “It doesn’t sound that great.”

“Then fine. You can just sit at the table while I eat it and the flavors wash over me.”

He shook his head. “No way. We’re in this together. Have you made it before?”

I grimaced and waved him inside. “No. I wouldn’t dare put it on my blog, either.”

Shutting the door behind him, I turned around and glimpsed Owen, taking in my space.

“If you’re trying to psychoanalyze me by my selection in décor, you’ll know my parents very well. I haven’t touched a thing since I don’t plan on staying here long.”

“They did a great job with these cabins.”

I nodded in agreement as he glanced at my laptop.

“I was just trying to come up with some blog posts for the photos I took of this week’s menu.”

He followed me through the few steps to get to the sitting area. “That has to come pretty easily to you.”

I spun around and groaned as I sat on the couch.

He sat next to me and laughed. “Or not.”

“I am the absolute worst when it comes to trying to string some words together about my food.”

The oven dinged, and I sprang off the couch. “You ready for some slop?”

He chuckled and stood, shoving his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure that’s the best way to present it.”

I grinned and opened a drawer to get a potholder out. “See my problem?”

Owen walked into the kitchen and shook his head. “It can’t be that bad. Should I set the table?”

“Would you mind? Silverware is in that caddy in the corner on the counter, and napkins are in that drawer at the end.”

He nodded, following my directions. “And plates?”

“Right behind you.” I set the casserole on top of the stove, bubbling cheese nearly oozing over the dish, hoping it tasted like a Reuben sandwich.

“There are two things I miss about leaving Chicago.”

“Oh, yeah? What are those?” He looked genuinely curious.

“Reuben sandwiches and Italian beef, but where I went, we just called it beef.”

“Ah, yeah.” He nodded as he put the plates on the table where my laptop sat.

“You’ve had the Italian beef?” I asked, surprised.

“Who hasn’t?” Owen smiled, setting the table.

“Most of my family. They think I’m crazy, but I could eat both sandwiches daily.”

He nodded. “Whenever I’m in Chicago, I make sure to grab the beef for sure. I like Reubens, too.”

“Well, here’s hoping this somewhat resembles a Reuben.”

Owen grimaced, and I chuckled.

---