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“Oh. Well, good.” Josh tapered his gaze. “Are you wearing overalls?”
She turned over her shoulder, spatula in hand. “I am.” Overalls represented no-nonsense hard work. “The food will be ready in a minute.”
“I can’t believe you cooked for me.” Josh squinted at her. Hopefully he didn’t find her motives suspect.
“I think technically this counts as baking.” Clara piled a plate high with the best of the batch of pancakes, bacon, and fresh fruit, and placed it in front of Josh. She’d arranged the berries in concentric circles.
Dipping her chin, she nudged the plate closer to him encouragingly. “I guess we both came to the conclusion that we should break bread together.”
“You know you’ve got flour . . .” He pointed to his nose, then his cheek, then his neck, until eventually he waved his hand around his entire face.
Clara tried wiping herself down with a dishcloth.
“You’re making it worse.” Josh dismounted from his stool and came to stand in front of her. Taking the soft material from her sweaty hand, he bent his knees and gently scrubbed her face. His warm fingers held her chin delicately, guiding the direction of her neck so he could address the worst of the culinary carnage. Clara’s heart rate climbed as he brushed off her nose. The strange intimacy of the act hung in the air between them, until she had difficulty catching her breath. Proximity packed a powerful punch.
He stepped back and Clara turned away, tamping down the confusing appetite he’d unleashed that had nothing to do with food. She grabbed a second plate for herself. Somehow his tender assistance shook her almost as much as his choreographed pleasure-wringing last night.
When Josh returned to his stool on the other side of the island, Clara sat next to him, skootching to ensure their elbows wouldn’t accidentally brush as they ate. “Oh shoot. I forgot the syrup!”
“I’ll get it,” Josh said, keeping one eye trained on her as Clara munched on a piece of bacon.
He placed the maple syrup in front of her. “Is this a trap?”
Clara cut her pancake into tiny squares and concentrated on keeping her voice even. “Is what a trap?”
Josh pointed at his brimming plate. “This is a lot of effort for someone you just met.”
“You think I have an ominous agenda for making pancakes?” Clara tried not to blink.
“You’re literally buttering me up.” He thrust his chin at the pat of butter she had carved off on her knife and moved to drop on his plate.
Clara imbued her voice with false innocence. “I’m sorry. Did you not want butter?”
“I definitely want butter.” Josh took the knife from her, brushing her index finger with his thumb. “But I’ve lived in this town long enough to know there’s no such thing as a free meal. You sure you’re not up to something?”
“You said yourself that you bought me pastries. If there’s no such thing as a free meal, consider this dinner payment in kind.”
Josh poured a healthy dose of syrup onto his stack and then scooped up a big bite, complete with berries. As he swallowed, his eyes closed, and a groan rumbled deep in his throat. He brought his palm down on the counter with a resounding smack.
“This. Is. A. Trap.” He punctuated each word with a slap of his hand.
Her chair groaned as she tipped it back on two legs, caught in a fit of nervous giggles. “Do you really like them? Are you sure they’re not too chewy?”
“Jesus.” Josh stared at her like she’d hit him over the head with one of the frying pans. “You look like trouble when you laugh.”
“I’m not. I swear.” Clara’s voice stalled on a squeak.
Her eyes fell to where his faded T-shirt hugged impressive biceps. She dug her fingernails into her palm.
Stick to the plan. “It is, however, possible I have a favor to ask.”
“I knew it,” Josh said around a massive bite. He flew back from the stool and shook his head. “You look innocent but really, you’re a wily minx.”
No one had ever accused Clara of nefarious motives before. She discreetly dabbed her forehead with a napkin. “Will you at least listen to my proposal?”
“All right, but I’m commandeering payment in kind.” He reached over and claimed her last slice of bacon.
“Okay,” she said, bracing herself for the big speech. “Try to keep an open mind here. What are the chances you’d let me borrow your car?”
