Page 42 of Suddenly Single
Jenny laughed.“Of course she does.She invited me to use her kitchen.You don’t want to hear it—it’s a long story.Okay, I’ll tell you. I had lunch in the restaurant yesterday, and I was dying for something sweet, but all Rosalyn had were these prepackaged cookies.And they wereawful, Edan.Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, butick.And you know how it is when you have your heart set on something sweet and find out it’s no good? Anyway,” she said, pausing to touch the back of her arm to her nose, “Sandra was there, and I said, ‘You know what they say, sweets and porn are better when they’re homemade,’ and Sandra said she agreed about the sweets but didn’t know about the porn, and neither do I, really, but you know, it’s a joke, and we were talking, and one thing led to another, and I mentioned these delicious nut balls my mom used to make with butter and bourbon and pecans, and Sandra had all those things, and before you know it, she’d invited me over to make them for dinner tonight.”
“But where—”
“She had to run up to the inn for something.Here, will you help me and put some of that wax paper down on the counter?” She smiled sweetly.
Edan cautiously stepped forward and did as she asked.As he stood there, Jenny scooped from the concoction in the bowl, balled it up in her hands, and placed them on the wax paper.“Hey, I was thinking,” she said, and gave him a pert little smile. “Don’t look so alarmed.I was thinking that you should have one of those little shops here so people can buy things from the inn.Like the chutney.You could put it in little mason jars and tie ribbons around it and sell it.Same for these nut balls.Really, if you think about it, you could make all kinds of stuff. Soap, pottery.Maybe even embroider some things.Sandra said she likes to embroider.”
“You mean put in a tourist shop.”
“Afarmshop.They aren’t the same thing.People really like the idea of getting organic food made right there, from ingredients found here.”
“Aye, and who would manage this farm shop?” he asked as he slid onto a stool.
“Oh, you’d have to hire someone for sure.But the shop would pay for itself.”
If only it were as simple as that.
“I really love homemade jellies and jams, and Sandra’s jam is fabulous. And Rosalyn’s pancake mix. Those two things alone could be a huge hit for you.”
“We donna have the space for mass production—”
“Sandra said she and your aunt talked about it once before.” Jenny glanced up and gave him a sympathetic smile.“I’m so sorry about your aunt, by the way.Sandra said you two were very close.”
“Aye, thank you. We were.” Jenny and Sandra apparently had quite a long conversation.
“Well, anyway,” Jenny said, resuming her work, “she said they talked about it, but they weren’t talking about a farm shop, exactly.They just wanted to make items for sale and put them in reception, but you were all like,nooo,we’re a refined establishment.” She arched a brow that challenged him to disagree as she walked to the fridge.She opened it, bent over, and began to rummage around in one of the lower drawers.
It hadn’t exactly been like that, but any thought of correcting the record was dismissed as Edan admired her bum.He imagined it bare to him, smooth and soft and—
She popped up, closed the drawer with her foot and returned to the island with butter.“Do you remember?”
“Pardon?”
“That Sandra and your aunt talked to you about selling a few things.”
Edan had to look away from her sparkling eyes in order to think.“Aye,” he said.The reason he’d said no was because of Audra.She hadn’t wanted to be bothered with it, and in order for the plan to work, they would have needed her help.“I’m not a shop girl, Edan,” she’d said with disdain.
“Would you mind—while I melt this butter, will you make some balls?”
The question sounded so ludicrous that one corner of Edan’s mouth tipped up.“How can I refuse?” He walked around to her side of the island.She picked up some dough and put it in the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers over it.She glanced up through her lashes, and her eyes, bloody hell, they were shining with desire, prompting an unwelcome surge of lust through him. “Just make a little ball,” she said, squeezing his fingers a bit.“Then roll it in this bowl.” She pointed to one that was filled with a powdery substance.“And put it here,” she ended, pointing to the wax paper.
“That’s all?” he asked her.
Her lips curved. “That’s all...for now,” she said, her voice sounding almost like a purr to him.And then she moved away.
Edan began to make the balls while she tended the melting butter. “You’re a cook, then,” he said.
“Sort of. When I was fifteen, I took a cooking class because I was worried Dad wouldn’t eat properly.I liked baking the best.I learned to make pies and cakes and flans, and brownies and muffins…well, you get the picture.”
“Your father must have been greatly appreciative,” Edan said.
“Maybe, but it didn’t last long,” she said with a shrug.“Our kitchen wouldn’t have passed anyone’s health inspection and the baking pans I bought were buried under some other stuff.”
Edan tried to imagine the kitchen of a hoarder.He tried to imagine how Jenny had survived in that environment.
Jenny shifted away from the stove to check his progress, her caramel head bending over the bowl. “And I don’t bake much now, because if I baked for a party of one, I’d blow up like that blowfish Hootie.”
“Hootie and the Blowfish is a band,” Edan said. “No’ a fish.”
