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Harper closed the distance between them. He lifted a hand and ran his knuckles down her arm. She suppressed the urge to shiver. It took a monumental effort to lift her chin and meet his gaze.
What was she thinking?
His dark gaze bored into her, as if he read deeper than she wanted him to. It would go very poorly for her if he caught on to her.
She needed to do something.
“How about that drink?” he suggested, taking her by surprise.
She had wanted to change directions. “Yes, please?”
He took her hand in his and led her toward the galley kitchen. He pulled out a stool and patted the seat. She slid onto the wooden stool while he circled around to the other side of the bar.
“Do you want a classic Hot Toddy, or are you open to some variety?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one,” she said slowly.
“What? You are missing out.” He wagged a finger at her. “Fine, then I’ll make you my favorite. You’ve twisted my arm.”
She chuckled and relaxed more.
He could read people so well. These little drops of humor were his way of helping.
Harper turned, opening cupboards and pulling down what looked like a bottle of whiskey, some honey, two things that looked like spice jars, and a box of black tea. That done he grabbed a pot from the drying rack by the sink.
“Let’s get this going,” he said under his breath. He fired up the burner and set the pot with a bit of water in it on the stove. “A watched pot never boils, so let’s ignore that until it’s boiling over.”
She chuckled. “Okay…”
Harper reached over to a basket and grabbed a lemon. “Normally, I’d just use a squirt of lemon from a bottle of lemon juice, but I think my guest needs something fancier.”
“I really don’t.”
He held up his hand.
“I don’t need anything fancy,” she continued.
“A special lady always needs something special,” he persisted with some of that warmth back in his eyes.
Special.
Robin swallowed.
Fancy wasn’t her thing. But if he thought she was special?
Her heart did a little thump against her ribs as if it were trying to get closer to him.
And here she was trying to use him.
Harper proceeded to slice half the lemon into rounds. The other half he zested the outside before squeezing it of all its juice. By then the water was bubbling. He poured the boiling liquid into two mugs waiting for just this purpose then added the tea bags.
“Three minutes should be good,” he muttered to himself. He braced his hands on the counter and looked at her. “So, how do we go about making you feel in sorts?”
“In sorts? I’m sorry?”
“Earlier you said you felt out of sorts. So, how do we make you feel in sorts?”
She opened and closed her mouth. “I really don’t think that’s a word. Or a phrase. I don’t think you can be in sorts. Can you?”
