She nods, then takes another bite of her sandwich. A bit of mayo clings to the corner of her mouth.
My fingers twitch with the urge to lean over the table and wipe it off.
I repress the urge and pick up my sandwich, shoving half of it into my mouth. It’s ridiculous, but I’ll do whatever I can to avoid making a fool of myself. Again.
What kind of grown man reacts to underwear the way I did? It wasn’t a big deal. Odette laughed it off. Why couldn’t I? Instead, I acted like a teenager and ran away from her—literally.
That’s why she’s staring at me like she is—like I’ve lost my mind.
“Guess you were hungry, huh?”
“Hmm?” I ask, sandwich back in my mouth, my bite smaller this time. Not that there’s much of the sandwich even left at this point. I’ve demolished nearly all of it in just two bites.
Maybe that’s why she’s looking at me like she is. Not because I’m visibly bothered by seeing a pair of panties, but because I’m eating this sandwich like I haven’t had any sustenance in years.
Pale-pink lace. Red hearts. A matching bow.
I chew and swallow, then wipe my mouth with my napkin like I have some class and am not a total caveman. “Hungrier than I thought, apparently.”
She nods. “Me too. Who knew all that work would make me so hungry? And that’s even after two breakfasts.”
“Two?”
“I had a bagel on the drive here.” She takes a sip of her lemonade. “Kai always toasts it perfectly.”
Kai.
She means that jackass who works at the coffee shop who is always flirting with any woman who walks through the doors.
Okay, fine. So maybe not every woman. He flirts with everyone. And he’s not a jackass. He’s actually really nice.
I’m just being irrational, and I don’t know why. I’m flustered from the underwear still.
Yeah, that’s it.
I take a big swig from my water glass, then another bite of my sandwich, this one smaller. I really should have savored it more because this thing is damn good. It’s just a basic lunch, but everyone knows sandwiches are better when someone else makes them.
Just like they’re always better with pickles.
I trade my sandwich for the jar of pickles, twist off the top, and pull out a spear. I hold the jar toward Odette, who crinkles her nose.
“Ew. No, thank you.”
“You don’t like pickles?”
“Unless they are battered and fried, no.”
I shake my head, grabbing another from the jar before recapping it and setting it aside. “I knew something was wrong when Izzy brought you home.”
“Hey! Rude!” She throws a chip at me, and I catch it effortlessly, popping it into my mouth along with the pickle. It’s not the worst combination, but it’s not a good one either.
Still, I eat it anyway, enjoying the shocked look on her face entirely too much.
“That was disgusting.”
“Hush up and eat your lunch. We have more work to do, and we’re losing daylight by the minute.”
“Losing daylight? How late are you planning to work tonight, Farmer John?”
