Page 5 of Christmas Home

The poached eggs poured over the rest of the meal as he cut through them, and the creamy sauce mixed beautifully with the eggs.

Corey cut a small piece and placed it in his mouth, and I watched as my pompous assistant lost control just long enough for pleasure to wash over him at the taste.

“That good, huh?” I asked, and Corey’s eyes popped open.

He finished chewing and nodded. In a conspiratory voice, he said, “This is five-star quality. What’s it doing being cooked in a two-bit country café in the middle of nowhere?”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Corey, you are just wrong.”

I dug into my own meal then, and as the rich flavors swarmed in my mouth, the same pleasures swept through me that I’d seen on Corey’s face a moment before.

“The food here is excellent,” I said as our server passed our table.

“Best for miles around, so I’m told,” she replied with a proud smile.

“This really is excellent,” Corey told her. “I can’t remember when I’ve had eggs Benedict as good as this.”

She eyed him for a moment, clearly looking to see if he was being honest, and when she accepted the fact that Corey wasn’t someone to give idle compliments, she nodded. “That’s good news. I haven’t had time to test my new cook’s skills. I’ll let him know you approved.”

Just as she said that, a young woman rushed into the café and straight back to the kitchen. A flash of annoyance crossed our server’s face before she masked it and refilled my coffee cup.

I watched as she followed the woman, then I glanced at my watch. Considering it was a quarter past the hour, she was probably late for work. From the look on our server’s face, I guessed there was a serious talk going on in the kitchen.

I finished my food and contemplated going back for seconds, then remembered I couldn’t work out at my home gym or see my personal trainer in Crawford City and decided to pass. Southern food was designed to keep hardworking people fueled to work,and it’d be all I could do to somehow work off what I’d already eaten.

I leaned back in my seat as Corey finished eating and returned his attention to his phone. “Crap, really?” he said, then swiped the phone and made a call. “Denise, it’s Corey. No, you are supposed to go to the house today and begin the repairs. I have no idea how long we’ll be here. That’s why I asked you to—”

I stopped listening. Since I’d sold the business and was spending more time at home, I’d learned that several things in my apartment weren’t conducive to being there so much. The toilet downstairs was fashion with no form. The kitchen wasn’t much better. So, I’d asked Corey to arrange to have some work done on the place while I was away. Clearly, he was now dealing with the predictable issues that come with overseeing a remodel.

Once again, I praised the universe that I had the resources to hire someone to handle this sort of thing.

I heard a commotion in the direction of the kitchen and glanced up just in time to see a man emerge from the back with a large gray tray. I watched transfixed as the extremely handsome man began bussing tables.

He wasn’t what I’d consider tall, maybe five-nine, five-ten at most. A thin build but strong arms. The kind that came from working hard for a living rather than hitting the gym. I watched as he circled the restaurant, cleaning tables and wiping down booths.

My temperature rose when his lithe body leaned over a table to gather dishes. His perfectly round butt was a lovely sight.

“Like what you see?” Corey said, and my face immediately blushed bright red.

“Hush,” I said and took a swig of my now cold coffee. I usually would’ve cringed, but I didn’t want to give Corey the satisfaction.

He just chuckled, and my blush deepened as the man came to our table and asked, in a sexy Southern drawl, if he could take our plates.

“Um, yes, that’d be nice,” I stammered, giving Corey the stink eye as he chuckled into his water.

The handsome man smiled at me and disappeared into the back with our plates. Unable to help myself, I watched him go.

“You should ask for his number,” Corey said, and thinking he was teasing, I looked back, ready to nail him for it. His face didn’t register humor, though. Instead, he looked concerned.

“I don’t know if he’s gay or bi.”

“So ask.”

“This isn’t New York, Corey. You can’t just go around asking strange men about their sexuality.”

“I could give your number to him, if you’re interested. Are you two gonna be around for a while?” a server asked. I hadn’t even seen the younger woman come our way.

“No…well, yes. Or, well, maybe,” I stammered. “But no to giving my number out. I’m here on personal business, not to find a date.” I gave Corey a withering look, then smiled at the server. “Besides, I’m here for at least a week, so I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

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