Page 42 of The Last Goodbye

Apparently, I could enjoy the moment and be cautious all at the same time.

“Hey, thanks for coming.” He motioned for me to step inside.

I made my way into the kitchen and turned around to face him, suspicious about what he was up to. “What’s going on?”

I braced myself for a fight.

I was prepared for him to tell me that he no longer wanted to do the deal, and then I’d have to remind him that he’d already signed the contract.

I was prepared for him to tell me that he didn’t want me to oversee the project or that the timeline no longer worked for him.

“Follow me. I made you breakfast.”

This, I was not prepared for.

He led me to the dining room, where a table was set for two, and he pulled out a chair, tilting his head to the side for me to take a seat.

I sat down hesitantly, half expecting the man to pull the chair out and prank me.

“You made me breakfast? Are you about to tell me something horrible, so you’re trying to soften the blow?” I asked. “You do know that we’re under contract, so there’s no turning back.”

“I’m aware. Stop thinking the worst of me, Magpie.”

“Give me a reason, and I’ll be happy to oblige.”

He nodded and walked away, and I reached for the glass of fresh orange juice and took a sip. Damn. Freshly squeezed juice just tasted different in Blue Sky Bay.

Bass came around the corner with two plates, then set them down on the table and took the seat across from me. I had my guard up with this man, but at the same time, the smell flooding my senses was unbelievable.

Eggs Benedict and roasted potatoes, along with what I assumed was a homemade biscuit with honey and jam on the side.

“Tell me why I’m here before I get distracted by your cooking,” I said, dropping my napkin in my lap.

“I was an asshole yesterday.”

I practically had to pick my jaw up off the ground before I could speak. “Well, we finally agree on something.”

He laughed, and I watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Why was that sexy?

It isn’t. Absolutely not.

He reached for his fork, and my gaze moved to his large hands. I studied the ink on his fingers like I always did before I forced myself to pull it together and looked up at him.

“I am grateful for what you’ve done, and I shouldn’t have called you out when I don’t know anything about your motives.”

“Is this an apology, Chef Bennett?”

His lips turned up in the corners, which of course made my stomach flip-flop for reasons I couldn’t explain.

The man was an asshole. He thought the worst of me.

Nothing should be flipping or flopping around this man.

But here we were.

“I’m not big on apologies.” He shrugged as he reached for his glass of juice.

“You could have just said that you were sorry. You didn’t need to cook me a gourmet breakfast, though I’m not complaining about it, because it’s spectacular.”