Page 14 of Accidentally Yours
“Wow,” Paige murmured, taking it all in.
But Ethan wasn’t paying attention. He leaned toward the host, exchanged a few quiet words and a folded bill. A few moments later, the host led them to a table for two, directly in front of a stone fireplace.
Paige grasped the back of her chair, her gaze fixed on the hearth. Instead of a fire, dozens of white pillar candles flickered inside.
“The hearth,” she said, putting the pieces of the riddle together.
“Yep,” Ethan said, scanning the space. “This was their table. My grandparents had a standing weekly reservation. Sometimes I’d join them.”
Paige stepped back as a server bustled past with a tray of steaming apple pie à la mode. “But the clue said savory, not sweet. What was that about?”
“They make savory pies too,” Ethan said, sinking into his seat. Paige followed. “My grandparents loved the cast iron shepherd’s pie. And their tomato and goat cheese tart.”
“Okay, this might be my new favorite place,” Paige admitted, distracted by the spread of decadent treats around them. “Now I wish I hadn’t eaten so much pizza.”
Ethan smirked. “Do you have room for pie?”
Paige scoffed, setting her hand on her chest. “I always have room for pie.”
His grin widened. “They have an incredible lemon-raspberry meringue. Sound good?”
“Like heaven. Only a crazy person would turn that down.”
Ethan waved over the server and placed their order. But as soon as she walked away, they both focused back on the task at hand.
“Where would your grandpa hide the clue?” Paige asked, her eyes darting around.
Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he slid off his chair and ducked under the table.
Paige blinked. “What are you—”
Not about to be left out, she dropped to her knees and crawled under with him.
“I don’t see anything,” Ethan muttered, twisting to examine the underside of the table.
Paige scooted closer. “Let me check.”
He gave her some side-eye. “Don’t trust my assessment?”
“Not yet,” she quipped.
His only response was a quiet, “Hmm.” Then, shifting back, he murmured, “Might be near the mantle.”
Paige moved to follow—but, apparently, too quickly. As they backed out from under the table and stood, they collided. Hard. Forehead to forehead with a thump.
A sharp smack, a flash of pain. Paige yelped, teetering backward.
“Son of a biscuit—”
But before she could crash into a neighboring table, muscular arms caught her.
She sucked in a breath, stopping mid-fall.
Ethan had grabbed her, and he held her close, dipping her like they’d just finished a dramatic salsa routine. His blond hair flopped across his forehead, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. His scent was . . . clean rain on hot pavement? Fresh linen hung in an August breeze? The crisp bite of an autumn apple? Paige swallowed, her mind spinning as she inhaled, which threw her even further off balance.
Electricity snapped through her nerves, heating every spot where he touched her. Which was a lot of surface area.
Her brain stalled.
