Seth contained the anger. He believed Chaos Machine when she said the man hadn’t hurt her physically.
But the asshole had done something. Something that had her jumping at a soft touch. He’d only touched her because she’d been so involved in her task and the song she sang softly that she’d been oblivious to the world around them or to him calling her name to get her attention.
The instant fear on her face had him regretting touching her, but now he knew a little more. He’d be on the lookout for any assholes eyeing her up. And he’d avoid scaring the crap out of her again.
He didn’t promise himself he’d avoid touching her. He should, but the woman’s allure was proving to be stronger than his common sense.
He sat his ass down on a stool and pulled out his phone and a notebook. They’d settled most of the kitchen items into place. Surprisingly, they’d barely disagreed. Her approach to setting up a cooking area was similar to his. Obviously, with a focus on baking rather than cooking, but he’d been relieved when she preferred an organized workspace.
His leg ached, but he didn’t want to leave. Not only did he need a sitting break before tackling the walk to the other farmhouse, but he didn’t want to leave Mara on her own after her admission.
What if the asshole she’d left behind was an obsessed ex? Gray had caught Seth up on what had happened with the other women on the farm. Sadly, he figured most women had to deal with abusive jerks no matter where they lived.
He was glad the other men here were just as protective as Seth was himself. No assholes allowed.
With the inn opening up to guests, he’d keep his guard up. Had Mara told her brother more than she’d shared with Seth? From the interactions he’d seen, they were close, but he doubted she’d shared the entire story. Judging by her expression, she’d surprised herself by sharing as much as she had with Seth.
He wanted a name and a face. A way to let Amber into the loop so that she could refuse any reservations to the man.
Seth wasn’t in the least surprised when Mara started pulling out ingredients. If his leg weren’t aching, he’d have done the same. The kitchen demanded to be used.
Chaos Machine surveyed her options in the pantry while she hummed some tune he didn’t know. Soft and dreamy. No earbuds in this time, so the music must be only in her head.
None of the kitchens where he’d honed his craft had allowed music. Seth’s mom had taught dance, so there’d often been music in the house, but after her death, he hadn’t tuned in to much of it himself. His parents had died within months of each other, both of cancer, and he’d signed up for the army. Not much music there, and he’d let it slide out of his life.
He figured that sharing a kitchen with Mara would have him learning her favorites by osmosis. And while he enjoyed silence, he didn’t mind her humming either. The memories didn’t hurt as much as they had.
Maybe because the baker was enticing as hell, and she was making him soft.
He almost snorted at that. The army had drilled all the softness out of him in the first few months. Given him a way to cope with the grief and the loneliness.
He’d learned to enjoy the disciplined life and hadn’t thought he’d ever be interested in being a chef again.
Yet here he was, having a blast scribbling recipe ideas into a notebook and dreaming up ridiculous names for his meals to go along with the inn’s name.
Mara’s humming grew in volume until she was singing and humming alternately as she put together the dough. She chopped apples and tossed them in while singing about spoonfuls of sugar and the worst pies in London.
Seth jotted down ideas as she worked, inspired by her movements and presence. Soon, his list of potential flavor combinations to try was pages long.
Should he try to make something of his own now? His leg was rested enough to try.
Maybe he’d throw together a salad with apple vinaigrette and fresh veggies. He wasn’t sure who was cooking tonight, but he doubted they’d mind.
Mara didn’t flinch when he stood. She smiled at him as she slid trays of cookies into the oven and turned to fill the sink with bubbles.
Huh. He hadn’t even noticed the chaos she’d left in her wake. Her humming and singing gave way to more upbeat songs, and he found himself mixing and chopping along to the beat.
When his salad was prepped and the vinaigrette bottled, he realized she’d grabbed some of his dishes and cleaned them along with her own. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
She smiled. “No problem. Doing dishes is my thinking time. It’s when I come up with my best new recipes.”
“Those cookies smell delicious.”
She laughed. “Apples, of course. Oatmeal, bits of chocolate, and a few spices.”
The scent reminded him of some places he’d worked overseas. “Chai spices?”
Her face lit up. “Yes. I hope they work together.”
