Chapter 18
“It smells great in here.” Ben walked into his parent’s kitchen Sunday afternoon and greeted Amy.
Startled, she spun around on bare feet.
The air whooshed from his lungs. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so beautiful. Her simple, floral dress, covered by a bright yellow apron, hugged her figure in all the right places. But it was her flushed cheeks, framed by the loose ringlets that had slipped free from her ponytail that took his breath away.
This was the reason he’d come over early. Because he couldn’t get Amy off his mind. The jealousy he experienced Friday night crept into his mind. Then he remembered the way Jake kissed Amy’s hand last night, and how she’d held it to her heart like she’d met her one true love.
He hadn’t meant to be a Peeping Tom, but when he caught sight of Jake walking Amy to the door, he’d been unable to look away.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the annoying thoughts away and took in the aroma of bread dough. He peeked in the oven to see garlic bread sticks. From scratch, no doubt, knowing Amy.
She shot a glance at the clock. “You’re early.”
Ben shrugged. “I thought you could use a little help.”
She smiled at him. “Icoulduse a helping hand. Your mom was helping me, but so wasKallie.”
“Ah, I imagine she’s not much help.”
“No, she’s not. Besides, I’m lame, so you can be my left arm.” When Ben tilted hi head, she asked, “You didn’t see the video?”
He chuckled as he remembered her reaction to shooting the buckshot. She sure was cute when she was mad.
He inhaled sharply, frustrated with the direction his thoughts had gone, again. “Yeah, I saw the video. Jake felt bad and wasn’t going to share it. But Robert begged—or maybe threatened—and Jake showed us. I have to say I’m impressed you held your tongue. I said every swear word in the book when Robert slipped one of those bullets in on me. And Jake gave him a bloody nose when he did it to him. We both eventually got even. We all load our own guns now. There’s no trust there anymore. Did it give you a bruise?”
Amy pulled the capped sleeve of her dress up to expose the joint of her shoulder. A large blue bruise, the size of an egg, marred her creamy skin.
Fighting the urge to reach out and caress the bruised skin, Ben grimaced. “I’ve never seen it bruise that bad. You must have been holding the gun really tight.”
“I was. I was determined to hit the bull’s eye.”
“I heard you did it with that last shot.” He couldn’t hide his admiration. “Nice aim. Peanuts, frosting, and guns. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“You’d better believe it.” She poked him in the stomach with a bunch of celery. “Wash this!”
Grateful for something to do that took his attention off Amy, Ben grabbed the celery and set to work. They worked side by side with casual conversation for some time, and then Amy chuckled, and Ben’s pulse sped up at the sound of her laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
Amy bit her bottom lip to calm herself. “Nothing.”
Ben studied her face. “Come on, tell me, or I’ll slime you with this.” He held up a spatula full of cheesecake filling and took a step closer to her, leaving little space between them. He owed her for flipping frosting on his cheek. Maybe he could smear pie filling near her mouth, then offer to clean it off for her. With his mouth. Heat filled his body, and his breath hitched at the thought.
Whoa. Where did that come from?His eyes lingered on her mouth.
Licking her lips, she backed away. “It was nothing. I was just laughing at something Jake told me yesterday.”
Jake’s name hit him like a bucket of ice water and his gut clenched. There was that feeling again. Jealousy. Thick, slimy, and green. He turned back to the cheesecake and let the matter drop. He’d been jealous of his cousins plenty when they were teenagers. Jealous that Robert had a brother, that they could ride horses whenever they wanted, and how the hard work had helped their muscles develop faster than his, and the girls that had drawn.
He wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why was he jealous of them now? And what had Jake told her that made her smile like that?
Ten minutes later, when Ben insisted the Alfredo sauce needed more garlic, Amy kept him at bay with a whisk and threatened to kick him out of the kitchen. Tempted to push the issue, he stepped closer, giving her a mischievous grin. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he stepped away. As much as he enjoyed it, he had no right to flirt with Amy. He shouldn’t be jealous of his cousins’ attention toward her, since he had no intention of making a claim on her.
Searching for a distraction from the direction his thoughts repeatedly traveled, he said, “You said you’ve always enjoyed cooking, even when you were young. Did your mother teach you to cook?”
Amy scoffed. “My mother didn’t teach me much of anything. Nothing useful, anyway.”
