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"And sober?" I asked, joking to hide my discomfort.
"Yes, that too." Her face scrunched up, wrinkling her pretty nose. In the morning light, I noticed she had a few freckles. "We have to decide one way or the other. Pretend this never happened and remain compatible chefs or admit there might be something here and see where it goes."
"You say it like it's all so easy," I said. "Not taking into account what kind of guy I am."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm not your typical guy. I would hate to disappoint you."
"I know you're not a typical guy. For one thing, you didn't hit on me last night when I brought you here. Most guys would have taken it as an opportunity to at least try."
"You must really trust me to invite me to stay the night,” I said slowly, hoping it was true.
"I do," she said simply.
"I must still be drunk because I'm suddenly thinking it's a great idea to ask you out on a date."
"Are you asking?" She stared into my eyes, unflinching.
"I guess I am. Elliot, would you like to go to dinner sometime?"
“Sure.”
“When?”
“How about breakfast first?” Elliot asked. “Dinner maybe the next time we have a night off? In the meantime, we need to eat some hangover grub. Afterward, I have the perfect solution to help us get over these nasty headaches."
“Besides hash browns?”
“Hash browns first. Hot springs after.” She grinned before getting up from the bed to grab the to-go containers and rejoining me.
“Hot springs?”
“I know the perfect spot. The minerals will leach out all the poison and we’ll be good as new. You up for it?”
Hot springs meant bathing suits. Did I want to look at this spectacular woman in a bikini? That was a hard yes. “Does this mean I have to sit up?” I asked weakly.
“If you don’t want me to eat your breakfast too, then yes.”
“Yes ma’am. I’m up.” I lifted my head first and then, with what felt like superhuman effort, sat the rest of the way up to rest my back against the headboard.
At this point I was fairly certain I’d do anything this woman asked of me. Even if breakfast smelled like my brother’s gym shorts.
13
ELLIOT
Located about twenty miles to the south of Bluefern, a rustic resort had grown around the natural hot springs. The first time I’d visited, I felt as if I’d traveled back in time the moment I drove through the gate. Today was no different.
“I’ve heard about this place but have never been,” Caspian said. “Hard to believe since I’ve lived here all my life.”
“I fell in love with it the first time I came here. The resort isn’t much to speak of, but the springs and the mud baths are to die for.”
We were in my car, since Caspian’s truck was back at his place. The road was curvy. It was apparent his hangover had not gotten better, so I did my best not to drive too fast or jerkily. My own hangover had lessened with food and painkillers washed down with several glasses of water.
I parked and shut off the engine. “You okay?” A green tinge had replaced his usual tan.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Just a little queasy.”
