Page 96 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

So much for avoiding Rhett Maddox.

I don’t say anything as we make our way to the breakfast buffet. When I say buffet, don’t think I mean overcooked eggs and dry biscuits.

No, the Maddoxes do breakfast buffets right—fluffy eggs, honey-baked ham, crisp bacon that’s never too greasy, biscuits as light as a cloud. It’s the type of buffet that will ensure you pack on an extra ten pounds and giggle while doing it—the buffet, not you.

Rhett gestures for me to go ahead, and I grab a plate but drop my fork.

Before I can bend to retrieve it, he’s already got his hand on it and is sliding it under his own plate. He takes another one and offers it to me.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

I try to take the fork without touching him, but somehow our fingers brush. An electric spark pops on my skin, and I feel the low vibration of magic, a soft hum thrumming in my chest.

I look up and he’s staring at me, his eyes brimming, not with confidence, but with want.

My pulse bucks.

I clear my throat and look away. With my stomach doing jumping jacks, there’s not much room for breakfast, but I take a small scoop of eggs and some bacon.

I start to walk off when Rhett says, “Cream cheese Danishes.”

If anything will get me to turn around, it’s a cream cheese Danish. Rhett drops one on a plate and I look for a table, finding Clarice and Beau sitting together.

Deciding company is better than being alone in my shame, I take one of the two empty seats.

Rhett is right behind me, placing a bowl of strawberries next to me.

“What’s this?”

“I saw you missed the fruit, and I know you like strawberries.”

He’s right. I’ve been eating a bowl of fruit every day, separating the strawberries from the bed of melons and grapes. Rhett’s gone the distance, plucking out the strawberries for me.

My heart stutters. “Thank you.”

He nods.

Beau coughs into his hand and smiles. “Looks like y’all are in the lead. Again. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Rhett says, shooting me a smile.

And a wink.

A warm feeling spreads across my chest, and quick as a wink, I drop my gaze to my eggs. Wow. These sure look great today—extra fluffy.

“What’s your secret?” Beau asks. “Clarice and I have been trying to figure it out, since it seems like the couples that are hanging all over each other have the worst scores.”

“To be honest,” Rhett says, picking up the coffee carafe and pouring some into my cup, “we don’t know.”

I start to reach for cream, but Rhett, still talking to Beau, picks out two creamers from the bowl on the table and drops them in my hand.

When I reach for a sugar packet, he beats me to that, too, handing it over with a sly smile.

That warmth fills me again, and I shake it off, blowing air between my lips in the process. Clarice, Beau, and Rhett shoot me questioning looks.

“Sorry. Cold chill.”