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Wait, that was true. Now he needed to act cool. What was chamomile? “Um, sure.”
“I like honey in mine. And sugar.” She cut a glance at him. “The sugar probably won’t help you sleep, but it makes it taste really good.”
“I’ll take both. You can’t go wrong with either of those.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She gathered the sugar canister and a mug onto the counter beside the stove.
Blake leaned against the counter, tucking one hand under his arm and clasping the back of his neck with the other. Would the wanting go away after a while, or would she always be so close, and yet, so far?
“Everything okay?” she asked.
He’d been too torn up in his own thoughts, and he’d probably been standing here looking like someone just kicked his puppy. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks again for supper. It was delicious.”
Everly tilted her head and smiled up at him. “Thanks for the avocado.”
“You can thank Vera.”
The kettle whistled, and Everly moved it from the stove. She mixed the tea like she was some kind of chemist, and he watched her every move. He’d seen her hide from the world behind her brother’s larger-than-life shadow for years, but in the quiet of her private life, she had a confidence that he found incredibly attractive.
“Here you go.” She presented him with the mug of steaming tea. “You mind if I sit with you while you watch TV?”
“I was going to ask if I could sit with you while you work.”
She shrugged and started toward the living room. “Sure, but I think I’m done for tonight. I like to work on editing jobs in the evenings, but if I work too late, I get sloppy and miss things.”
“You? Sloppy? Never.”
Everly stacked the books and papers on top of her laptop on the coffee table. “You’d be surprised. But after a few years, I got smart about my schedule. There’s no sense in getting work done if it isn’t getting done correctly.”
“I like it when you talk smart,” Blake said.
Everly straightened and threw a couch pillow at him, rocking the tea in his hand. “Stop it. You’re probably the most intelligent athlete I’ve ever met.”
Blake tossed the pillow onto the nearby recliner as they sat on the couch. “I guess that’s saying something, since you’ve met almost every professional football player in America. Current and former.”
She huffed. “Trust me, that’s nothing to write home about.”
Blake couldn’t take his eyes off the shadows that flickered across her face from the fireplace. “It’s a different life.”
“Nothing like here.” She turned her body to face him and tucked her feet under her. “How’s the tea?”
He looked down at the dark liquid in the cup. “I don’t know yet. I’m scared to try it.”
Everly laughed. “Just take a sip. It won’t kill you.”
“I don’t know. What if I’m allergic to chamomile?”
“I’ve never heard of a chamomile allergy.”
“It could be a thing.”
Everly stared at him expectantly. “I have something to tell you, but I’m not saying another word until you drink it.”
He liked bossy Everly. She’d make a great mom.
That last thought had him gasping, and the warm aroma of the tea filled his senses. It actually smelled good. He took a small sip and waited.
“Well?” she asked.
