AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hardly.”
“How about you come up to the house and I’ll show you the plans I have so far?” When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “Izzy?”
“You want me to come there?”
“Yeah.” He looked into the marinade. “I have two chicken breasts, a garden salad, and a bottle of Riesling.”
“I—”
“Have you eaten?”
She cleared her throat. “No, I didn’t have time.”
“Then come here and I’ll cook for you.”
“Why?”
Suspicious woman. Smart woman, but suspicious nonetheless. “Because if we talk this out over a bottle of wine, then maybe we won’t snipe at each other.”
“Are you sure me coming there is a good idea?”
He snapped off the burner. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, don’t worry.” Her indrawn breath made him smile. Her shoulders and spine had probably just straightened into a perfect T-square. “I’ll be on my best behavior or are you more worried about your own?”
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
He tossed his phone down on the breakfast bar and pulled out salad fixings and a sweet potato that would go with the teriyaki marinade. Fifteen minutes later he had the potato sliced and in the microwave. Normally he’d do the oven, but that would take almost an hour.
With the salad fixings back in the fridge to chill, he took a minute to finish off his whisky before putting the glass in the dishwasher. He turned the corner and hit the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. Showering would take too long, so he washed up, changed his shirt, and exchanged jeans for roomy cargo shorts that might hide his involuntary reaction to her husky voice.
He caught the flash of headlights in the pitch dark of his road. Hoping it was Izzy and not a reporter, he went back downstairs and braced himself at the intercom in the foyer.
“If you’re selling Girl Scout cookies, I only like Thin Mints.”
“Samoas is the correct answer. Open the gate.”
Logan grinned and gave her access. Man, he could get used to the buzz under his skin if he wasn’t careful. The pop and ting of gravel signaled her arrival. She parked next to his truck and gingerly picked her way to his walkway in a pair of heels that were never meant for his kind of driveway.
She was wearing another dress, this one a wild print in blues and golds that was anything but calming. It was as vibrant as the woman that wore the hell out of it. Those legs should be illegal. Her hair was pinned back and her eyes were softer, more natural. As she came up the stairs, he was thankful for the cargos.
&nb
sp; He really should have thought his invite through. She was holding a bottle and thrust it into his belly as she sauntered by with a wildly dark flower scent in her wake. He rubbed his ribs. “C’mon in.”
He closed the door and looked down at the ten dollar bottle of Moscato in his hands. “This will go great with the chicken.”
“I know you said you had a bottle of Riesling, but I like sweet instead of dry,” she called from the kitchen.
He followed her in. “We can have both.”
She trailed her fingers along the granite edge of his kitchen island, then to the built-in bar that framed out the end of the kitchen cabinets. “Not on your life.”
“Worried, Izzy?”
“Hardly.” She curled her fingers around two wine glasses. “May I?”
“Now you’re asking for permission?”
She grinned over her shoulder and slid the glasses free. “It’s a beautiful place.”
