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“Okay, so let’s be clear here, I only took that job as an aide and to get my foot in the door with the Southwood school district board system,” she explained. “I majored in science education and chemistry. I now mainly focus on science, technology, engineering and math.”
Donovan raised his brow but kept chewing. “And you work here at the hotel? I would guess the busy time is the summer around here when teachers are out.”
Pressing her full lips together, British visibly pondered. “Of course summers are busy for Magnolia Palace, but this,” she said as she waved her hands at the vast space of the kitchen, “really isn’t my thing.”
“What’s your thing, then?”
“I mentor a group of girls.”
“Great. In cooking?” Donovan said eagerly. He picked up his sandwich and took another bite.
British shook her head from side to side. The curls of her dark brown ponytail bobbed. Flecks of gold in the strands caught the light. “I have been mentoring a group of young ladies in the STEM world.”
“Wait. STEM?”
“STEM for GRITS, to be exact.” British cleared her throat. “It is important to make sure women know it is okay to use their brains, not just their faces.”
Choking, Donovan set down his sandwich. His left eye squinted, almost making his vision of perfection blurry. Almost. “Are you aware of who I am?”
“No.”
“Have you ever heard of Ravens Cosmetics?”
While Donovan wasn’t a part of the marketing or branding teams, he would suggest they name their next shade of lipstick Mistletoe, because all he wanted to do was kiss her. Something about the bow shape of her puckered lips reminded him of the joy he experienced on Christmas morning. A thought occurred to him, wondering what her mouth would feel like against his.
“I’ve heard of them,” said British. “I’m not completely out of touch with society. Are you one of their models?”
The chuckle stemming from the back of his throat turned into a choke. British came around the countertop and patted him hard on the back.
“You okay?” she asked, sincere concern in her onyx eyes.
Touched, Donovan nodded and ducked out of the way of her next pat. “I’m good. So you said being a teacher is your part-time gig. Is cooking your other?” he asked and lifted his sandwich.
“Okay, I believe it’s time I cleared up this misunderstanding.”
A look Donovan was definitely used to crept across her pretty face as British bit the corner of her mouth and avoided eye contact. His lack of trust in women, especially after Tracy, set him on edge. Why had he lost sight for a moment and thought she would be any different? Since she hadn’t known who he was a few moments ago, Donovan wondered what her angle was. What did she want from him?
“Why are you in my kitchen?”
Before Donovan glanced around to see whose angry voice came from the arched entry into the kitchen, he watched British’s eyes widen in surprise.
“So here’s the thing...” British began to confess, her eyes darting between the newcomer and Donovan. A grin spread across her face.
“The thing is—” the other woman began, storming into the kitchen. She reached for the white apron around British’s waist. “I am Chef Jessilyn. I am the chef at Magnolia Palace and I don’t know why the hell this woman is in my kitchen.”
Donovan sat up in his seat.
“The thing is...” said British. “We had a bit of miscommunication when we first met.”
“We met twenty minutes ago,” Donovan countered. Irritation and disappointment coursed through his veins.
“I came here because I needed a favor,” she began.
“Of course you did.” Donovan pushed his plate away. For one brief moment he’d thought she was different.
“Jessilyn!” British exclaimed. “Might I have a word with you in private?”
The newcomer, Jessilyn, jammed her hands onto her hips. She was wearing a pair of overalls rolled at the ankles and a pair of green flip-flops with the same-colored-green tank top under the bib. “Oh, you mean like five years ago, when you were the aide for my teacher who left you in charge of my senior class and I asked you for a moment of time to discuss my grade?”
