An odd dose of excitement shot through Camila’s chest as she spun to face him. “Good morning!” The enthusiasm coating the words made her blush.Tone it down, Camila. The guy’s been dodging you like the plague for two days straight.
“Would you like your breakfast on the patio this morning? Or you could sit at the dining table of course, or the breakfast nook in the rear…”
“How about right here?” he asked, motioning to a barstool at the kitchen island before her. He slid one of the stools away from the counter before she could form an answer, not that it’d be anything but yes. It washismansion for the month; he could eat where he wanted.
Even if itwaslikely designed for staff to sit down and have a meal away from the resort guests. Even if itwasher main workspace and she’d be hovered over it attending to meal prep while he ate.
“I’m off to clean the master suite while I can,” Gretta hollered, an edge on the words.
“Very well,” James called back. He turned to face Camila once more. “I don’t think she likes me.”
Camila’s face went hot. “I don’t think she…doesn’tlike you. She’s just very down to business.”
Hints of a wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t mind,” he said. “She’s a hard worker. That’s what’s important.”
“Right,” Camila agreed with a nod.
“Oh, is that the beet stuff?” Though he’d just settled into the stool, James pushed away from the bar.
“Yeah,” Camila said, lifting her eyes from the cutting board.
He strode right to the countertop where the three quarts stood and snatched one of the jars. He studied the deep purple contents before looking up at her. “Does it have to sit out like this for a while?”
Camila nodded. “Yes. It’s ready now, though. In fact, I plan to serve it with lunch. Pulled pork sandwiches, red potato salad, and fresh peas.”
“I can’t wait.” The slightest hint of a smile pulled at one side of his lips. The sight made Camila’s heart stop, skip, and then speed into double rhythm.
If Camila could regain control of her body she would reply, but it was too busy having a response of its own. The heart-racing was only the half of it. Her cheeks were flushed, her brain was mushy, and a ripple of goosebumps had spread up her arms.
All from an innocent half-smile, Camila? Come on.
But if the way to a man’s heart really was with food, the way to Camila’s heart was appreciation for the food she made. She always had sucked up food compliments like air. They fed her creativity, her ambition, and her very soul.
“You don’t mind if I have like, a little taste right now, do you?” James hadn’t abandoned the jar yet, she realized.
“Not at all.” She glanced down at her berry stained hands; one still held a massive strawberry while the other steadied the knife. “Let me rinse up and get you a fork.”
“No, no,” James said. “Just tell me where they are. I’ll grab it.”
“Ah…” While balancing fruit over the open blender, Camila took a step back and glanced at the drawer she stood in front of. “It’s this one right here.”
James raised a dark eyebrow as he looked down at the knob. He kept his grip on the jar and hurried over, careful as he tugged it open. His arm brushed against her apron as he reached in and pulled out a fork. He stepped away from her then, but not before Camila could breathe in the heavenly scent of him. Spicy, masculine. Camila wasn’t one to use the wordsexy,but his scent forced it into her mental rolodex in a blink.
He didn’t return to his seat. Instead, James turned his back to the counter and leaned against it as he twisted the lid. Camila finished cutting the large berry in half and plopped it into the blender. Yet as she reached for the kiwi she planned to add next, she couldn’t help but watch as James poked inside the jar.
“You’re sure it’s ready?” he asked. “You don’t have to do anything special to it?”
Camila shook her head. “Not anymore, no. Go ahead and taste it.”
James sank the prongs into the mixture, pulled out a heaping forkful, and ate it. A groan sounded at his throat as he closed his eyes and chewed. “Mmm.”
Camila’s grin widened, the elation swelling to the point she gave into a quiet giggle.
His face turned serious as he set his gaze back on her once more. “Marry me.” The two short words were followed by a smile so spectacular that her breath hitched. It wasn’t one of those formal grins, the ones stemmed from obligation or awkwardness. It was the sort of smile he might give to a good friend over an inside joke.
James Benton might have been holding a jar of beet kraut in his hand, but it may as well have been Camila’s heart in that moment.
He chuckled low in his throat. “Seriously,” he said as he screwed the lid back into place. “Thatis incredible.”
