“Mmhmm.” She taps her manicured baby pink nails on the counter. They match the color of her sundress. “And then today my server tells me that peach cobbler is the special dessert of the day. He had to tell me, because it wasn’t even on the printed menus. Can you imagine how happy that made me?”
“It was a nice coincidence, I guess.”
The look she gives me tells me I’m not fooling her, but I’m not about to confess to my eavesdropping or going out of my way to make her the dessert she wanted.
“It was very nice,” she agrees after a moment. “Will you have any left to serve tomorrow?”
“Oh, yeah, there’s plenty.” I made an embarrassing amount of the stupid stuff to make sure it wouldn’t sell out, or in case she didn’t eat at the inn today. But she doesn’t need to know that. “Would you like some more now?”
Her eyes go wide at my offer, but then she smiles in a way that takes over her whole face. In a way that makes doing this ridiculous thing I did entirely worth it. “Really?”
“Sure, I’ll warm up a piece for you. You can take it up to your room. Or you could, uh, hang around here. If you want. I’m only finishing up a bit of cleaning.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at myself. I never sound this awkward and needy.
“I wouldn’t be in the way?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I tell her, “No. Not at all. I mean, you’re pretty tiny, you know? I don’t think you can get up to too much trouble in here.”
There’s a playful sparkle in her eyes now as she gazes at me for a beat. And then she says, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Suddenly, my skin feels hot. Brenden finally got the AC fixed, but maybe it’s already fritzing again. I clear my throat and spin toward theindustrial-sized refrigerator to take out one of the leftover pans of cobbler. Avoiding the eyes I feel watching me, I cut out an absurdly large piece and slide it onto a plate. Then I pop the plate into the microwave before turning back to face Riley.
“You can drag one of those stools over here,” I tell her, jerking my head over to the two stools in front of the other prep table.
She does as I instruct, then sits down, crossing one leg over the other and inadvertently causing the hem of her dress to inch up her thighs.
I only realize that I might have been staring for an inappropriate amount of time when the microwave dings, making me jump. I remove the plate and push it in front of her. She thanks me before digging in, letting out a tiny moan around her first bite.
Okay. That’s enough of me being nice. I have work to do.
She stays quiet, not trying to make any conversation as she eats the dessert and I finish getting everything put away and wiped down. It’s not until we’re both finished, and I’ve tossed her empty plate in the sink to soak, that she thanks me again.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she asks, smiling brightly.
“Uh, sure.”
“Your cobbler is even better than that other one I missed.”
The way she’s looking at me now—with something that could be mistaken for adoration in her eyes if I was foolish enough—gets me tongue-tied. So all I do is nod dumbly as I usher her out of the kitchen.
Since I don’t have any excuse to stick around the inn, I say goodbye to her in the lobby and head home, feeling pleasantly energized despite my long day.
CHAPTER SIX
RILEY
Wakingupinmyvery comfortable bed at the inn this morning, I notice that the sense of melancholy I’ve been feeling since I got here is gone. Maybe it’s because of the bright summer sunlight coming in through the blinds, or the gorgeous view when I open them. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten to spend more time with my brother than I have in a long time. Or maybe it’s because I’ve made a new friend. Kind of, sort of. Maybe.
It's also nice that the staff at the inn has gotten more used to me staying here. Not that anyone was standing around gawking at me before. But I could sense their nerves and urgency, like everyone was always making sure to give me their absolute best level of service, and they were constantly worried about doing anything that might displease me. It feels like they’ve relaxed a bit now. Which is good, because I don’t want to make anyone’s lives more stressful.
So it’s just my luck that when things are going smoothly and I’m feeling good, I walk into the bathroom to turn on the shower and... nothing happens.
Actually, something happens. A high-pitched squeaking sound comes from the pipes. But that’s it. No water.
Fuck.
I’d rather not have to bother Brenden with this problem, because I can already picture him freaking out and apologizing to me a hundred times for the inconvenience. It’s hard to tell if, like his staff, he’s trying so hard to provide the best hospitality because I’m famous, or if that’s how he always is when running this place. Probably a little of both.
But I will need to shower at some point.
