Page 12 of Double Booked

Suddenly, she turned and caught him staring. “What do you think?”

“Um…I...”

“I was thinking spaghetti,” she continued.

Food. Right. Okay. “Spaghetti sounds good. Not that I expect you to make it for both of us. I mean, I can make it just as easily, or I could make something else.” He was rambling in an attempt to cover up his ogling.

She gazed at him for a long moment. “Since it was my idea, I’ll make it.”

“Are you sure? I can help. I’m not that great a cook, but I know how to boil water.”

She chuckled. “It’s kind of crowded in here with both of us. Why don’t you go do something, and I’ll call you when it’s ready?”

“Really?” It sounded too good to be true. Was this going to come back and bite him on the ass later?

“Yes, really. Now go.”

Her demand was accompanied by a smile. It was a huge improvement from earlier, and he didn’t want to squander it. “Okay. I’ll get out of your way.” He scurried out of the kitchen and went upstairs, grabbing his camera bag on the way.

Once he was in the loft, he breathed a sigh of relief. She’d smiled, laughed, and offered to make dinner, and all because of their shared love of Pop-Tarts. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it.

Then he sat down at the desk and opened his laptop. Removing the memory card from his camera, he inserted it into the computer and downloaded the pictures he’d taken today. The first image was of an elk herd grazing in an open field. He studied the photo, zooming in to inspect it. It was decent, but not one of his best. He reviewed the remaining photos with the same critical eye, deleting some as he went along. Each day, he took dozens of pictures, but only a select few would make the cut. Those, he submitted to magazines and nature publications, and hoped to get paid for them.

He was reviewing the last photo when she called, “Dinner is ready.”

“Be right there,” he called back. He shut down the laptop and stood. As he went downstairs, he inhaled the tantalizing aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and oregano, reminding him how hungry he was.

I could get used to this, he thought upon entering the kitchen. On the counter were two steaming plates of spaghetti and a loaf of crusty Italian bread. Tall glasses of ice water were next to each plate. His gaze shifted from the food to her, and he smiled.

“Don’t get used to this,” she stated.

Alrighty then.

Five

While they ate, Eden kept giving him sidelong glances. He was so focused on the food, he didn’t seem to notice.

After a few more bites, he lifted his head and looked at her. “This is great. Thanks for making it.”

“It’s just spaghetti. Like you said, anyone can boil water.” After she said it, she realized a simple thank you would have sufficed.

“I think food always tastes better when someone else makes it,” he declared.

She couldn’t argue with that, though she was also enjoying the meal. “There’s more in the pan if you want a second helping.”

“I think I will.” He got up and went around the counter to the stove.

While he was filling his plate, she tried not to look at him, and failed. He was dressed in jeans and a black Henley with the sleeves pushed up. The clothes were simple, but they conformed to his body perfectly. Hope would definitely think he was hot, she decided.

Suddenly, he turned around and caught her staring. She quickly averted her gaze to her plate.

He rejoined her at the counter. “I left some in case you wanted seconds, too.”

“No. I’m good.” She took another slice of bread and slathered it with butter. Next to Pop-Tarts, bread was her favorite thing. Now that Patrick wasn’t there to criticize her, she felt free to eat her fill.

“How did the photography go today?” she ventured. Work was almost always a safe topic.

“Not as good as I would have liked, but I got a few good shots.”