Page 221 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
When I make it outside, Tatum is on the landing beside the loading dock, her eyes following Toby as he makes his way across the grassy lawn to the left of the restaurant.
“Oh hey, he isn’t in my garden. What a nice surprise,” I say.
“I tried to send him there, but he just wouldn’t listen,” Tatum says without missing a beat.
I chuckle as I walk to my car. Toby runs over to greet me, and I give his ears a good scratch. Despite my grumbling, he’s actually a pretty great dog.
“So Idon’tneed to worry about bears, right?” Tatum calls.
“You don’t need to worry about bears.”
She nods, but there’s an uncertainty in her eyes that says she doesn’t completely believe me. “You promise?”
“I promise,” I say. And then, because I think she needs the distraction, I add, “Better rest up, Elliott. I’ll be here early in the morning, and I’m willing to fight for the best bell peppers.”
“You won’t have the chance if I get here first,” she says. “Since I live right upstairs, I’m thinking my odds are pretty good.”
I open my car door and rest my hand on the top of the window. “ButI’mthe one who gets personal text messages from Shelton.”
I’ve been spoiled without a catering chef on staff, getting first pick of whatever Stonebrook’s produce manager brings over and leaving the rest for catering to work with. But Tatum is serious about her vegetables. Last week, she shoved four entire endives into her shirt just to keep me from snatching them out of her hands.
“How do you know he doesn’t textme?” Tatum asks.
I let out a dramatic scoff. “Are youflirtingwith Shelton to get first dibs on produce?” The thought ofanyoneflirting with gray-haired, mild-mannered Shelton is hilarious. The poor man would probably quit his job if he even thought it was a possibility.
“Absolutely not. But if I was, would it be any different than you flirting to get parmesan cheese?”
“I didn’tflirt.”
“You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to.”
“Now you’re the one being ridiculous.”
She calls Toby and he trots toward her. “Goodnight, Lennox,” she sing-songs.
I climb into my car, shaking my head as I pull out of the parking lot onto the long, winding drive that cuts through the farm.
I don’t realize until I pass the wide stone sign at the Stonebrook entrance that I’ve been smiling the entire time.
Chapter Five
Tatum
“Your butter’s too soft,Tatum.”
I flush at the sound of Lennox’s voice somewhere over my left shoulder, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
What is he doing here? I swear, since our conversation last week about his stupidly delicious parmesan, it almost feels like he’s been finding reasons to be in my kitchen.
Not just running into me around the farm, buthere,in my space. Making me feel all flustered and out of sorts.
I wish I could say I didn’t like it.
I set a bowl onto my food scale and zero it out before dumping in several scoops of almond flour. “My butter isnottoo soft,” I say without turning around. “Are you lostagain, Lennox? Do you need me to draw you a map so it’s easier for you to stay in your own kitchen?”
“Just here to preserve the reputation of the farm. If you make pastry with butter that soft, it’s going to be flat.” He reaches over my shoulder and nudges the still-wrapped butter with his knuckle. “Flat pastry? Unhappy wedding guests. Unhappy wedding guests? Bad reviews. Bad reviews?”
I spin around, cutting him off. “I get the point. But it’s amootpoint because my butter isnottoo soft. It’s room temperature. It’s fine.”
