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“Oh?”
“I couldn’t help but overhear… Well, you know how every word in the house carries…”
She did. She and Quaide had been struggling to find a private corner and still someone overheard every murmur they exchanged.
“I heard you and Quaide discussing how you made his coffee to perfection. He seems to be a very particular man—”
“That’s an understatement, but go on.”
“I figured if you can make him happy with a pot of coffee that Clay could be just as happy with mine. He says the coffee I make is like brown water. Would you be willing to teach me your secrets to a great pot?”
“Of course!” She started toward the door.
“Wait! You’re not just leaving me to sew this thing, are you?” Rain called out.
She turned. “Uh. Why don’t you take a break for now? Join us in the kitchen and I’ll teach you how to make coffee too.”
Her sister was hopeless in the kitchen despite Dove’s instruction.
Lark gave a small bounce. “Oh! Why don’t we make this a little friendly competition? The person who makes the worst pot of coffee wears that monstrosity.” She waved at the mauve outfit.
“Deal!” Dove and Rain said at once.
Lark’s smile led the way downstairs to the kitchen. All the guys were gathered there. Sandwich fixings were spread out on the countertop and Julius was toasting bread in the toaster.
Dove sought out Quaide’s gaze. As soon as the warmth struck her, tingles rippled up and down her arms. She always felt as if she was basking in a tropical sun when he looked at her that way. It kept her going back into his office over and over again, asking questions she didn’t need answers to just to see him one more time.
“What are you ladies up to?” Quaide’s stare followed her to the coffeemaker.
“We’re having a competition.”
“What sort of competition?”
“Coffee. There’s a wager too—loser wears a really ugly outfit.”
Quaide pushed off the counter he was leaning against. “How ugly we talkin’?”
“Veryugly.”
His hazel eyes burned down at her. “You’d be sexy in a feed sack.”
“We’re all here.” The masculine voice brought Dove back to reality. Clay’s teeth flashed white in a sideways grin.
“Okay, let’s get this competition underway.” Dove took control. “We each make a pot. The guys are our taste testers. Whoever comes out on top wins…” She cast a look around the ugly, outdated kitchen for some prize.
Quaide plucked a mug off a top shelf. “How about they win this dusty old gold mug with a bank logo on the front? It was Grandpa’s favorite.”
Laughter sounded around the room.
“Yes! Winner gets the gold bank mug! And the loser wears the ugly outfit that Rain and I finish sewing. Lark, would you like to go first?”
“Sure thing.” She moved to the coffeemaker and located the bag of coffee. “I’m going to start with this delicious variety of Columbian dark roast in a big red can.”
Dove leaned toward Quaide. “Rookie mistake,” she whispered from the corner of her lips.
His eyes smoldered with the old amusement that they always shared in the office. The rest of the team and even Rain seemed to be getting into the game as they watched Lark scoop the grounds and add them to a paper filter. Then she filled the pot with tap water.
“Is that going to taste like the lead pipes in this place?” Clay drawled.
