Page 28 of A Not So Merry Rescue
“Kudos to you, chef. Bon appétit. Muy bueno. Delicioso.” Shekisses her fingers, opening them up in what Shania calls a “chef’s kiss” action.
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s better leftover.”
She closes her laptop, sliding it out of the way. She sets the table with the two plates, napkins, and utensils already set out.
I nod to her laptop. “Get some writing done?”
Her face turns crimson. “Nope. Had to catch up on some emails and marketing tasks. Scheduled a few social media posts.”
Her answer seems genuine. I wonder what she’s ashamed about.
I sit down, plating a piece of pizza for both of us. “The lights too much?”
She’s not fazed by my left-field question. “I nearly had a heart attack and went blind when they all turned on. Give a girl some warning.”
“Sorry.” I’m anything but. I forget they’re on a timer since I love them. When they turn on each night, it warms my heart.
“Right. Sure you are.” She calls my bluff. She bites into the pizza, a moan escaping. Not as tempting as the brownies or breakfast, but enough for my dick to press against my zipper. “Exactly what I needed. Thanks for indulging me.”
“You’re welcome. Once you mentioned it, pizza sounded like a superb choice.”
We chat about our day as we eat the rest of the meal. She seems a little less hesitant to answer my questions about her job tonight, but I stick to easy topics.
What’s her process?
Does she have an agent, editor, publisher?
How long has she been published?
Nothing too personal or revealing of intimate information.
“As long as I can get all the parts for your car, it should be done tomorrow.”
The news has her meeting my gaze. “Oh, that’s great. Thanks. Do you think you’ll have trouble getting the parts?”
“I can’t say. Between the storm and the holiday, it’s uncertain. But I’ll certainly try.”
“I appreciate it, Beckett.”
There’s a hint of something I can’t decipher about how she says my name. I don’t dislike it.
“Are you done with work for the day? I thought I’d build a fire, and we could watch a movie. Make hot cocoa and popcorn.”
“Brownies, too,” she adds.
“My mom also sent cookies. She says hope you’re enjoying your stay.”
Her brows furrow. “You told your mom about me?”
“Only when she asked. Remember when I called around to the B and B’s?” Willa nods. “My sister and brother-in-law own them. Guess it was easy enough to put two and two together.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t give her anything about you specifically, only that I have a guest here until her car is fixed.”
“I’m not upset. Just perplexed.” She grabs another slice of pizza. “Add whatever costs for food to my repair bill.”
“I’m not doing that,” I state, getting a beer from the fridge. “Beer? Wine? Eggnog? Holiday spritzer?” I’m not usually this antagonistic toward other people, but it’s so easy with her. I adore getting a rise out of her, watching her get all worked up. It’s like I can’t help it.
