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These were helpful thoughts, no matter how embarrassing they were. He was here to finish interviewing me. He would write his article, and we would probably never see each other again. The thought physically pricked my heart. I rubbed my chest, begging myself to get ahold of these unrealistic desires. I knew what my destiny was, and I wouldn’t endanger anyone’s life with a careless act. But would making out with Eric once be so bad? Knock it off, Sorrel.
I opened my bedroom door and was hit by a sweet scene. Tara was cuddled up against Eric’s chest, purring at a ridiculous decibel level. I would purr for him like that too. Really, Sorrel, stop it. “Thanks for waiting,” I said before I stopped myself from pushing my cat out of his arms and cleaning him with my tongue.
Eric perused me, taking in my white shorts and paisley peasant blouse before flashing me a smile. “No problem. Your cat kept me company.”
“I see that.” I eyed his black tee. “I have a lint roller if you’re interested.” Tara looked up at me as if she were offended that I’d even hinted that she shed.
Eric placated her by petting her head ever so gently. His actions didn’t fit the brooding tough-guy persona he gave off, but honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Something deep within me knew he wasn’t the man he sold to the world. It made me wonder why he felt the need to hide who he really was.
Eric stood, making sure not to jostle Tara. “Are you sure I can’t take you out to eat? I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I love to cook. Besides, I can make a Greek asparagus omelet that will make you want to sing.”
He chuckled. “I have no doubt.”
“Do you want to help?” I bit my lip.
He tilted his head. “No one’s ever asked for my help in the kitchen before.”
“Really? Not even your mom or dad?” A girlfriend or wife? I wanted to add.
He stiffened at the mention of them. “Never.”
“That’s a shame.”
“They were never out to win parent of the year.” The pain in his tone was apparent.
Maybe this was why he came off as an unfeeling jerk at times. He really hadn’t gotten enough love as a child. “I’m sorry.”
“You need to quit apologizing to me.” He set down a disgruntled Tara, who refused to leave him. She weaved in and out around his feet. Eric was entertained by my lovesick cat. “I’d love to help you.”
That made me smile more than it should have. “Follow me.” I flicked my head toward the kitchen.
Eric and Tara both followed.
I went straight to my fridge and pulled out most of the ingredients we would need.
Eric looked around my small but functional kitchen with high-end appliances. “Have you always lived here by yourself?” he casually asked.
“Yes.”
“No roommates . . . live-in boyfriends?”
“No. I’m afraid I snore too loudly,” I teased. It made me sound more normal.
His eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I believe that?”
I shrugged.
“What motivated you to move to Riverhaven, then?”
I opened a cupboard to retrieve my cutting board. “Is this all for the article, or do you personally want to know?”
“Both,” he easily admitted.
I berated myself for the little thrill that gave me. You’re going to die alone, I reminded myself. “Okay.” I set the cutting board down. “Grab the chef’s knife there.” I pointed at my cutlery set. “We can chop vegetables and talk at the same time.”
“Good thinking. I’m starving.” Eric slid the knife out of the wooden block.
I handed him the asparagus. “Would you mind cutting these spears into two-inch pieces?”
He held the asparagus between us like it was some sort of romantic offering. “Not at all,” he said so dang sexily I stopped breathing. This was what came from never having a real romantic relationship. You get turned on by asparagus.
“Um . . . thanks,” I eked out before turning from him to catch my breath. I seriously needed help.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I grabbed a glass bowl to crack the eggs into. “Oh. Well, it sounds weird, but a few years ago while I was in Phuket eating lunch at a local restaurant, I overheard a husband and wife talking about selling their café here. I was intrigued.” And something told me to eavesdrop on them.
“Why were you in Thailand?”
“Because the beaches in Phuket are stunning.” Also, because they grow the best turmeric. It was perfect for relieving swelling. I’d even used it to treat headaches. But Eric didn’t need to know that.
“You like the beach.”
“Love it.” I cracked an egg with one hand.
Eric was meticulously cutting the asparagus into even pieces. “Why didn’t you move to a coastal area, then?”
“It’s beautiful here, too, and the Jensens, the couple who owned this place before me, made me a deal I couldn’t refuse.” More like they desperately needed the money and I knew I should help them. They’d been in Thailand meeting with a supposed investor in a last-ditch attempt to save themselves from financially drowning. They’d maxed out a credit card to make the trip. Then the investor ended up being a conman. Poor Mrs. Jensen was so distraught that day.
