I wasn’t ready to examine too closely why I’d invited Bonnie along tomorrow. Things were feeling a little less casual now than when they’d started, but our relationship was still working. I wasn’t looking for an arbitrary reason to end what we had going on. Maybe it was foolish, but I liked it, whatever it was—casual or not.
And maybe I wanted the two most important people in my life to meet. I could picture Bonnie’s single-minded determination to charm my surly grandmother and, at the same time, Lia softening her own sharp edges because she knew that’s what Bonnie needed.
The next morning, I awoke to a half-empty bed and the sound of a pan clanging somewhere in the house. The door to the bedroom was shut, but when I emerged into the hallway, I was greeted by the warm smell of cinnamon and vanilla.
A glance at my watch confirmed that it was way too early—not even six.
I blinked blearily as I walked into the kitchen. Bonnie was in my tee shirt and a purple floral apron. Fuzzy socks slouched around her narrow ankles. She was surrounded by mixing bowls and measuring cups as she transferred what looked like perfectly golden mini muffins from a pan to a cooling rack.
She caught sight of me and did a double take. “Shoot. Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“What are you doing?” I asked, my tone more confused than anything else. “I thought you wanted to come to Lia’s with me.”
“I do,” she replied, then moved to set the muffin tin on a braided pot holder.
“I don’t . . . understand.”
Bonnie finally turned to face me, giving me her full attention. But I was tired and she was wearing an oven mitt and no pants, so my gaze drifted to where her thighs peeked out from beneath her apron.
“I wanted to make something to bring,” she said, and my eyes reluctantly returned to her face.
I saw it then. The nervousness. The worry she’d hidden from me last night as we’d watched a movie before bed.
“And I wasn’t sure what Lia would like or if she had any food allergies, so I made a few different things.”
I took in the rest of the room and what I’d missed earlier—likely due to the no-pants thing. There wasn’t just a single batch of muffins cooling. The kitchen table held a tray of what looked like sausage balls and a loaf of something with a shiny white glaze on top. There were more muffins—in two different varieties—occupying the island.
I frowned as my gaze drifted from one delicious-looking baked good to the next. “What time did you get up to do all this?”
“Oh, just a bit ago.”
My brows went up, calling her on the fib. “It’s just the three of us, Bonnie. You didn’t need to go to so much trouble. Or any trouble. Lia is the one feeding us.”
Her nose wrinkled in obvious confusion. “But I’m meeting someone new. And she’s hosting. It’s polite to bring something.”
An alarm sounded quietly from Bonnie’s phone, and she winced before silencing it and reaching for the door to the oven. “This is the last thing, I swear.”
I sighed. It had been foolish of me to think the charm offensive would wait until we were standing in Lia’s kitchen across town. Bonnie was so used to people-pleasing that she probably didn’t even see what she was doing.
After she’d placed the final baking dish—some sort of cheesy hashbrown casserole—on the counter, I approached.
I turned Bonnie to face me, gently tugged off the oven mitts, and then pulled her into a tight hug. “You don’t have to try so hard, Clyde. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who doesn’t like you.Lia is ... she’s gruff and opinionated. She’s not soft, but sheisan excellent judge of character.”
I smoothed a hand up Bonnie’s nape and cupped the back of her head before leaning back to meet her gaze. “You’re going to get along just fine.”
Obvious disbelief and self-doubt bloomed across her features. That little vee between her brows emerged—the one that I felt like a divot in my heart.
“I just want to make a good impression,” she admitted.
A strand of blond hair had come loose from her little bun. With a soft smile, I tucked it behind her ear, letting my touch linger. “You know how to talk to anyone. I’ve seen it so many times. You’re good with people because you care—because you have a good heart. It’s not just you being friendly. You put people at ease. They want to know you, and so they let you know them.”
Her lips parted, and she released a shaky breath.
“But in case of emergency,” I offered, “just compliment her birdhouse collection and tell her she makes the best scrambled eggs you’ve ever tasted.”
“She collects birdhouses?” Bonnie despaired. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have gotten her one from?—”
I shook my head. “No.”
