Page 25 of Exclusive

“Thank you. Little passion project.”

I gestured to the plant with the palmlike leaves. “This was you?”

“And these.” She held up her hands, signaling they’d done the work. Two rings and a bracelet adorned. My stomach went tight. Oh, I liked her hands very much. “Come in. Let’s relax. I have the back door open. You can’t see the ocean, but you can hear it.”

“What smells so amazing?” My senses went into overload as I entered the home. She was baking something. Or had. And it was heavenly. My eyes scanned her living room—gray furniture arranged in a U-shape, open to three towering bookshelves full of not just books, but elegant looking objects. Vases, a small lamp, a series of awards, a photograph of her accepting one. She was such a fucking grown-up and impressive person. One of the reasons I’d forgiven her so quickly after our early missteps. I wanted to know this woman. I craved knowledge of her.

“Rosemary bread.” I turned and saw her in the open kitchen, slicing into a loaf with a large bread knife. “How about a warm slice with some butter?”

“If you greet all your guests this way, you’re going to have a line.”

“Who says I don’t?”

“Not me. I swear. Do I still get the bread?”

She slid a small plate my way. That’s when I realized I had no small plates at home. I needed to get on that because I suddenly felt like a hospitality heathen. “The rosemary is fresh from that garden you were just admiring.”

“Wow. Thank you.” I stared at the thick buttery slice, and my mouth watered. I heard the splash of liquid in a glass and grinned as I saw her pouring rosé into two oversized wineglasses. “You’re spoiling me now.”

She raised a shoulder. “It’s the weekend. We all need a little extra care.”

“I like the philosophy.”

She met my gaze. A smile. She looked away. “So, what do you think?”

I paused, unsure of the subject matter. “About the bread? It’s probably the most wonderful thing I’ve tasted in years.” Not a lie. Hot, fresh bread needed some kind of medal for its contributions to society, and Carrie needed to be thanked in the speech.

“KTMW. You’re beyond the brand-new zone at this point. How are you liking the job?” She sipped her wine and waited for my reply.

“Well, now that all hazing has come to an end…”

She raised a finger. “That statement might be premature.”

“Now that all hazing has tapered off, I’m starting to feel at home. I understand how the place works.”

“And that’s different than WBBA?”

“They’re differentplanets. The competition for just a bite at agood story is not something I dealt with there. Everyone played nice in the sandbox and brought brownies.”

Carrie slid a piece of the warm bread into her mouth and took a bite. I had trouble deciphering her words for a moment. “Brownies could be nice.”

“I prefer a career that’s actually going somewhere.”

She came around the kitchen island and paused next to me, hip kicked against the counter. “I think you’re more than on your way. I’ve never in my life seen Tam hire someone from such a small market. You skipped about four steps.”

“Trust me. I’m well aware. I’m still not sure why he took a chance on me.”

She lifted her chin. “There’s something about you.”

“What?”

She shook her head looking at me. Unabashed. “I’m still not sure.”

“Is that why you made my first couple of weeks difficult? Because you thought I hadn’t earned it?”

Carrie exhaled slowly and reached for her wine, signaling that she might need it to tackle this question. “I’ve actually thought about it a lot because it’s very much out of character for me.”

I winced. “That bad, huh?”

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