She moved to the beat, and his eyes were drawn to her ass like a magnet. It was a hell of a fine ass. Sexy as hell as she swayed to the music and dried a baking sheet.
His body reacted, but he shut it down. The woman was gorgeous and sexy as hell, but he refused to be attracted. Not only was she Ford’s sister, but he’d also be sharing a workspace with her. And most likely cleaning up after her.
He could appreciate the visuals, but he wasn’t falling for the package. Not a damn chance.
He’d always been good at self-control, and the army made damn sure its personnel could control their bodies and their impulses. That was probably what had gotten him through the injury and back to walking. That, and the damn stretches the physical therapist insisted on.
He doubted Phail had a physical therapist, but his buddy from LA, Saurodeep, had given him a weekly routine to keep the muscles moving and keep Seth from being bored. He’d also told Seth he was available for video check-ins if he wanted that.
Seth had stood in the doorway too long. Even though Chaos Machine hadn’t spotted him, he was acting like a creep. Watching those curves move to the music. Listening to her sing the sultry words.
Time to announce his presence. Cursing the swinging door for not having a squeak, he moved forward. “Good morning.”
Mara nearly leapt out of her skin. She whirled toward him, holding the baking sheet up like a shield in front of her.
Seth couldn’t contain the low growl. Her eyes showed fear. Fear that instantly morphed into embarrassment, but there’d been fear.
Some asshole had scared her. Hurt her. Possibly in a kitchen. An old boss? Co-worker? He wanted to stomp the guy’s ass into dust and then bake him in a pizza oven.
Cheeks flushed as dark as a good merlot, Mara smiled at him. Well, it was more of a grimace, but the effort was there. “Hi. Sorry. I was caught up in the music and didn’t hear you.”
Probably true, but not the entire story. Not that he’d get it out of her now. She was on high alert, blood pumping, breathing shallow.
He nodded and ignored both her yelp and obvious physical reaction to the fright. “Coffee?”
Sure enough, that had her relaxing. No one enjoyed being called out when they felt embarrassed.
She pointed to the pot at the end of the counter. “There’s probably enough for a cup left, as long as you like it strong. I can make another.”
“So can I. Strong is good.” He opened the cupboard above the machine and grabbed a mug with “Prepare to Phail” in bold letters showing on a dark blue and green plaid background.
He’d bet Epic had something to do with it. Troy Phail, aka Epic, had a million jokes centered on his surname. Now, it looked like the man was using them to promote his town.
Not a bad idea.
If he cooked for the No Phailed Apples Inn, Seth would get bombarded with jokes and puns from all sides. He should probably incorporate those into the names of some meals he created.
Phailed Pork sandwiches with applesauce? Sounded awful. It would take some getting used to thinking of the word “Phail” positively.
While he ruminated on names that started off bad and got worse, he made another pot of coffee. He put the grounds in the labelled container on the counter and appreciated the good reusable filter. He knew the Malssums used eco-friendly techniques on the farm and was glad to see them on display in the kitchen as well.
He and Mara didn’t exchange any more words as he fiddled with the coffee and then looked through the cupboards, getting a feel for the layout. This might not be his space, but it was impossible not to snoop through any kitchen.
Chaos Machine turned off her music and finished drying her dishes. She returned everything without opening excess cupboards. She might have only arrived shortly before him, but she’d put more hours into this kitchen.
Maybe she’d do her baking here so he could have his kitchen to himself.
And why didn’t that thought make him as happy as it should?
Because he was a dumbass.
Chapter 4
Consider Yourself At Home
Mara knew she’d jumped about a foot when Seth had surprised her. The man had simply walked into the kitchen, and she’d yelped as if he’d caught her with her fingers in the cookie jar.
There was no one here who would sneak behind her to cop a feel. No one like Anson in the bunch. At least she hadn’t hit him with the baking sheet. Slamming Anson with the muffin tray had been incredibly satisfying, but hitting Seth wasn’t necessary.
