And just like at Tilly’s, she lost herself in the mundane and familiar tasks. Her voice cracked along with the melody, but she didn’t care. She swayed her hips as she prepared her part of the meal.
The French doors to the deck opened, and Reid strolled in with a platter of meat. Scents of garlic and butter wafted in the air. “What’s going on in here? A cat dying?”
Laughing, she grabbed a nearby towel and tossed it at him. “Are you saying I’m a bad singer?”
“I’m saying you were born with more faults than two left feet.”
She anchored one fist on her hip. “I didn’t hear any complaints about my dancing last night.”
His expression turned serious, and he lessened the space between them with three long strides. Setting the platter of meat onto the counter, he cradled her jaw in his palm. “Trust me, there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with that dance or what came after it.”
Heat splashed against her cheek, but she didn’t break their eye contact—didn’t break the connection tethering her to him. “Well, if there wasn’t anything wrong with how my feet move, I guess that means my voice is great, too.”
His smile took over his face, and he pressed his lips to hers. “Everything about you is great. Ready to eat?”
“Mmm-hmm. Want some wine? I know you’re more of a beer guy, but I grabbed a bottle of red at the store.”
“Uh, sure. Just a little, though. I’m on the clock.” He winked, but the usually playful gesture didn’t cover the weird dip in his voice that told her something more was lurking behind his words.
She had all night to figure out where his head was. For now, she rummaged through the doorless cabinets until she found astack of red plastic cups then unscrewed the cap. She filled both cups then handed one to Reid. “Cheers.”
Reid accepted the cup and tapped it against hers. “Cheers.” He took a small sip then set the drink on the counter. “The plastic cups go perfectly with paper plates. You might want to double them up to make them a little sturdier.”
Taking his advice, she stacked two plates and topped them with a small filet, a potato and salad. “Is there a table on the deck?”
He lifted his hand and tilted it from side to side. “Kind of. I got a little creative, but it should work.”
She waited for him to fill his plate then followed him outside onto a square deck that jutted off the kitchen. Two five-gallon buckets propped up a piece of plywood, and a couple of lawn chairs, offered seating at the makeshift table.
But it was the pristine lake behind the house with the meadow beyond touching the mountains that stole her attention.
“This is gorgeous.” Her voice came out in a whisper as she stood and took in the beauty around her. “I’d love to wake up to this view every single morning.”
“I know the feeling.”
She turned to see him watching her, and something told her that he wasn’t talking about the view.
He dipped his head toward her plate. “You better set that down before you lose your steak.”
“Good call.” She studied the thin plywood. “You sure this thing will hold up?”
“Only one way to find out.” He slid his full plate and cup onto the table then pumped his fist in triumph. “Perfect.”
Laughing, she followed suit—sans fist pumping—and settled into the chair. “You were right. You’re a man with many skills. Let’s just hope grilling is one of them.” Slicing off a piece of meat,she slid it into her mouth and moaned. “Dear God in heaven. I wasted you behind the bar last night.”
He cut off his own chunk and skewered it with his fork, pointing in her direction for a beat before popping it in his mouth. “Told you.”
They ate in silence, attacking their food while enjoying the peacefulness of the green meadow and sightings of furry creatures. Each bite was better than the last, the juices sinking into the tender cut of meat to create an explosion of flavor in her mouth.
With his food almost finished, Reid pushed it away and leaned back in the chair. “So why don’t you have a house like this?”
“One that needs painting, with no cabinet doors?”
“Funny. No, I mean you said you could wake up to this view every morning. Why do you live in town instead of finding a place with some land?”
She took the last bite of her baked potato then sipped her wine. “Land takes time to maintain. It’s hard enough to find time to mow my little yard. Heck, I don’t have time for much of anything beyond keeping Tilly’s afloat.”
“Do you love spending so many hours working at the restaurant? Or is there a part of you that wants something different for your life?”
