Tomorrow. The word settled in Tessa’s chest with unexpected weight. She pushed it away, focusing instead on getting back to Rachel’s, checking her ankle, and helping with the girls. Normal things. Safe things.
But safe and normal were the last things on her mind when Matt appeared in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen just as she was reaching for the door.
He had a kind of primal energy that made her want to abandon normal and safe. But that wasn’t her.
Maybe that was it. What she felt was animal attraction, pure and simple. She was a woman whose biological clock was ticking away, and he was a man in his prime. Virile.
No, don’t think those thoughts while you still have to look him in the eye,Tessa warned herself.
Too late, heat crept across her cheeks as she looked up at him.
“Heading out?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“Yes,” Tessa replied, aiming for the same professional tone. “Thanks for being so patient with me today.”
“You did well.” His eyes held hers for a moment. “We’re lucky Rachel has such capable friends.”
“Just doing what anyone would do,” she said with a small shrug.
This was the moment to leave—a clean, professional goodbye that would close the door on whatever strange intensity had been building between them all day. She even took a step toward the exit, her hand on the cool metal of the door handle.
But then Matt was moving, reaching for something on the counter behind him.
“Wait,” he said. “I packed some food for you to take back. For Rachel and the girls. And you, of course.”
He held out a large paper bag that smelled heavenly, his movements slightly awkward, as if he wasn’t used to such gestures. The contrast between his confident kitchen presence and this hesitant offering made something in Tessa’s chest squeeze tight.
“That’s... really thoughtful,” she said, taking the bag. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and the brief contact sent a current up her arm. Not for the first time today, it was as if sparks flew between them. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture so endearingly uncomfortable that Tessa couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “Just some of the chicken parmesan from the lunch menu. And garlic bread. And a little of the chocolate cake that was left.”
Tessa met his eyes again, intending just a quick glance of gratitude, but the moment caught and held. Something passed between them—something she couldn’t name but could definitely feel, like the air before a storm.
“Well,” she said finally, her voice rougher than she’d intended. “I should get going. Rachel will be wondering where I am.”
Matt nodded, taking a step back. “Of course. Drive safe.”
The door closed behind her with a gentle chime, and Tessa walked to the borrowed vehicle on unsteady legs, the weight of the food bag in her hands anchoring her to reality.
Inside the car, the quiet seemed to rush in on her. After hours of restaurant noise—the clatter of dishes, the hum of conversation, the sizzle from the kitchen—the sudden silence felt almost oppressive. She set the bag of food carefully on the passenger seat, then just sat for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, gathering herself.What a day!
She started the engine and drove away from the restaurant. By tomorrow, she’d be completely in control of her emotions.
Tessa drove to Rachel’s with the windows down, letting the mountain air wash over her, hoping it would clear her head.
It didn’t.
The scent of the food beside her kept pulling her thoughts back to the restaurant—to Matt’s kitchen, his hands carefully packaging these dishes, his thoughtfulness in sending enough for all of them. Her mind replayed moments from the day in vivid detail: the way he’d moved through the kitchen with such easy confidence, how he’d added that dollop of whipped cream to her cracker face for the little boy, the intensity in his eyes when they’d met hers across the dining room.
“It’s just adrenaline,” she told herself aloud, her voice almost lost in the rush of air through the open window. “New place, new people, high-pressure situation.”
But that didn’t explain the way her skin had tingled when he was near, or how she’d somehow always known exactly where he was in the restaurant without looking.
“Gratitude, then,” she argued with herself. “He was kind. He was helpful. That’s all.”
The road curved sharply, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter, forcing her attention back to the drive.
“There’s nothing mystical about it,” she continued her self-lecture. “You met a nice guy who happens to be attractive. It happens.”
