Page 82 of Flipping His Script
But I hadn't.
I opened the car and settled myself behind the wheel. But I couldn’t bring myself to fire up the engine.
What the hell was wrong with me?
My gaze drifted to the house.What was wrong with Anna?
Was she okay?
I mean, she was just a little nauseated, right?If so, I could relate.
But what if it was something worse?
What if she had a weird food allergy or something she didn't even know of?
I felt my jaw clench.Not my problem.
I fired up the engine and sat for a long moment without going anywhere. And then, with a low curse, I cut the engine and left the vehicle, slamming the driver's side door behind me.
Not knowing what I'd find, I returned to the house. By the time I reached the kitchen, Anna was standing at the counter, looking not quite okay, but better than I feared – as in, she wasn't lying dead in a pile of her own vomit.
When she heard me come in, she looked up. Her eyes were watering, and her face was flushed.
Something in my shoulders eased.Better flushed than green.
But then, she blurted out, "Don't look."
With renewed concern, I moved forward. "Why not?"
"Because I'm making you a surprise."
I stopped short. "What?"
Slowly, her gaze drifted to the counter. I'd been so focused on Anna that I hadn't noticed the plate in front of her.
Now I frowned. "What the hell are those?"
Her chin lifted. "Lunch."
Not my lunch. That's for damn sure."But what the hellarethey?"
She picked up the kabob stick and held it out in my direction. "Waffle kabobs."
I gave it a look. She hadn't spearedjustthe remaining waffle pieces. She'd added extra stuff, too.
What the hell?I just had to know, "Are those grapes? Or olives?" It should've been easy to tell, but she'd added a ketchup-and-mustard glaze that was seriously disturbing, even bymystandards.
She smiled. "I don't know." She nudged the kabob closer. "Taste it and see."
