Stepping into the hallway, delicious smells greet me. I follow them to the kitchen and find Garen at the stovetop, focused on cooking. He looks up and gives me a crooked smile through his thick beard. My stomach flips at the way his dark brown eyes crinkle in the corners.
"Hope you're hungry, and there's wine open on the counter if you'd like a glass."
"Oh, wow. You didn't have to cook me anything," I say, feeling my cheeks heat.
"I'm sure you're starving," he says, watching me limp over to the wine bottle. "How's that ankle?"
"It's okay, but I should probably keep it elevated for the evening."
"I'll set you up by the fire after dinner."
"That would be perfect."
I immediately regret how eager I sounded, feeling my cheeks burn. Chill out, Bellamy.
"Great," he says, his eyes meeting mine briefly before returning to what he's cooking.
Wanting to change the subject, I ask, "What are you making?"
"My world-famous chicken piccata."
Garen then steps back, chewing his lip.
"Shoot. I didn't ask you whether you eat meat."
"Oh, I do. Don't worry about it. Thank you so much for cooking," I say.
"Of course. I thought we'd just eat here in the kitchen if that's alright with you."
"Sure. Where else would we eat?"
"The dining room. My place is pretty big."
"Everything I have seen so far is gorgeous. You have a beautiful home."
"I'd give you a tour, but I don't think you should walk too much," Garen says with a soft laugh.
"No worries," I say, slipping into the kitchen chair, nursing my red wine. My cheeks heat again. I wish I could turn my schoolgirl blushing off, sheesh.
After Garen plates the food, he joins me, and I am overwhelmed at how amazing everything tastes.
"I can see why this is world-famous," I quip.
His cheeks flush under his mountain man beard, and I can't help but feel pleased. We fall into easy small talk, and when I mention moving to the foothills of Ravenhart Mountain to start my own business, he grabs a tablet to look up my website.
"Wow. These are incredible! Your art is so intricate. So this is what you were selling at the festival?"
"Yeah. I actually sold out before it ended. I'll need to be more prepared next time," I say, feeling my cheeks heat yet again.
"I'm not surprised. So, you make these all on your own?"
"I do. I have a small workroom at my rental."
"Well, I'm definitely going to order a couple. These are simply stunning."
"Oh, you don't have to buy my stuff," I say, feeling embarrassed.
"I know I don't have to buy them. I want to buy them," he says, grinning at me, and my heart feels like it's going to bust through my ribs and dance around the table.
