“Wow.”
“That win is one of the reasons why I’m cooking.”
I tilt my head to the side. “And the other?”
She lowers her gaze for a beat and bites her lower lip.
“Because of… yesterday.” Her eyes are steady on mine, a riot of greens and golds swimming in them, melting into a depth of emotion I can’t quite read.
I ponder on her words, unsure how to respond.
She shifts from one foot to the other, staring up at me from under her long lashes.
My throat goes dry and tight, and I clear it before speaking. “Since both of us are ending the day on a positive note, why don’t we focus on that.”
She offers a warm smile. “That’s why I wore this.” She pulls at the jersey. “I feel like a champion. This is my first experience at going viral.”
“I’ll put the champagne in the fridge and go change out of my suit.”
“In the meantime, I’ll put the freesias in a vase. Thehomemadecon amorespaghetti and meatball sauce is ready.” She turns to the stove and her hands go into a ta-da! gesture.
That’s so Harley.
“The garlic bread is easy peasy. I already took care of the appetizer—Caprese salad. I even got a couple slices of the dessert of the day at Number 22. You can’t celebrate without cake. It’s going to bedee-licious.”
Her lightheartedness is back in full force.
“Thanks for cooking this incredible meal, Harley,” I say.
She beams. “You liked?”
I nod. “I had two portions.”
Her smile takes over her face.
I tap the side of my dessert plate with my fork. “Good job on insisting we have cake. The pastry chef outdid herself with this caramel cake,” I say sliding the last bite into my mouth.
“Had I known this would be this lip-smacking, I would’ve grabbed more than two slices.”
“I’m sure I can talk her into making a cake just for you.”
“It’s good to know the boss.”
I nod.
“Speaking of you being the boss, should we try the new test flavors you brought from the brewery?”
“Let’s do it a little later. I’d prefer to have a clean pallet to appreciate the beer. Between the caramel and the champagne, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“Okay. I’m eager to try out blueberry craft beer for the first time.”
“Wait until you try the citrus or blood orange ale. You’ll be a convert.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” She smiles. “I agreed with yoursuggestion not to mix business with pleasure, but now that we’ve enjoyed my world-famous spaghetti and meatballs, guzzled down champagne, and we’re all sugared up, I want to hear all about your meeting with Hoppy Joe.”
I stand. “First, more champagne is in order.”
She claps. “I love the way you think.”
