“Mama? Mama? You okay?” Tia and Tana shouted.
Bethany reached around Hank and shook Rosie’s shoulder. “Rosie, you okay? Wake up, Rosie.”
Rosie moaned and raised her head. “What’s in those cookies? I swear, for a moment, I thought I saw...¡Ay,Dios!It’s him. Girls, that there’s Apollo from TV. What’s he doing here?” Rosie looked at Bethany like she’d awakened on Mars.
“Well...” Bethany was at a loss to explain why Hank Haverill had turned up in her kitchen.
“I came for the cookies and milk, like you.” Hank gave them his thousand-watt, dimpled smile.
Rosie fanned her chest. “Dios mío.Take a seat.”
Hank pulled out the chair and folded his long legs into it.
“Bethany, honey, get the man some milk and cookies.”
Hank tipped his head back and roared with laughter, and for a moment, the sight was so mesmerizing that Bethany couldn’t move. The god of light was in her restaurant about to pound some milk and cookies.
The good Lord really did have a sense of humor.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Do it again, Mr. Hank. Please do it again.”
Tia (or was she Tana?) squealed, the noise the most joyous and real sound Hank had heard in some time—maybe years. They stood on either side of him as he sat at the table, their little hands tugging on his arms. The stuffed mouse he’d nabbed from a shelf in the store earlier and nicknamed “Lanky” for his long tail reappeared behind Tia’s left ear.
“It’s here! Hi, Lanky,” Tia said, petting the mouse.
“How’d he do that?” Tana said to her mother.
“It’s magic.” Rosie beamed at him across the table. She hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d recovered from her earlier faint. Hank wished he could bottle Rosie’s expression and pull it out during the long, lonesome times, when his days seemed to run together with no end in sight. That seemed to be happening with more frequency. He ran a hand across his faint stubble. He needed food, sleep, and a shave, in that order.
“Now, girls, let’s let Mr. Hank enjoy his lunch.” Rosie motioned Tia and Tana to their chairs. “Taste the soup.”She gestured to their white bowls and large silver spoons. “You too.” She nodded at Hank with another of her broad smiles. “You can’t go wrong with Miss Bethany Parker’s soup. There’s a whole lot of love cooked in there. It’s the best there is.”
The mention of the owner’s name—Bethany Parker—had Hank glancing toward the counter. Since she’d served them lunch, her small hands hadn’t stopped moving: stocking shelves with products and refilling trays with cookies and cupcakes and putting them on display with easy precision. Her curly dark hair was pulled into a ponytail that emphasized the prettiness of her oval face and rosebud lips, which turned down when she looked up and caught his stare.
Hank forced his gaze back to his soup and picked up his spoon. Ever since he’d first spied her, eyes closed and savoring a bite of cake, he’d found his gaze returning to her time and again, maybe because she’d seemed to enjoy that cake more than him.
He plunged his spoon into the soup and stirred. The smell of tomatoes wafted upward, tickling his nose, and causing his mouth to water. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a simple home-cooked meal.
“Careful now,” Rosie warned her children. She moved the bowls closer to them so they wouldn’t slop. For someone who looked to be in her early twenties, Rosie sure had the mother thing down. Hank found himself moving his own bowl closer.
He raised the spoon to his mouth and blew on it before tasting. He closed his eyes. Rosie hadn’t lied. Creamy tomatoey goodness tingled on his tongue. The soup was one of the best he’d enjoyed. A glimmer of an idea surfaced but he closed it down quickly. He couldn’t afford complications.He was here for a day or so. Just enough time to inspect the building and give his advisors the thumbs up on Fitaholics. And if Elizabeth had her way, he would do an interview or two while he was at it.
“Are you sleeping or eating?”
Hank popped his eyes open to see Bethany standing in front of him with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of ice water, her lips pursed as if she didn’t know quite what to make of him.
“I was savoring it, that’s all.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and offered her what he hoped was a sincere smile. “It’s good.”
The smile didn’t work. At least, her expression still looked fierce. Why wouldn’t she lighten up? Maybe she preferred ladies—most women he knew would have been all over him by now.
“Sure it’s good. I made it from scratch this morning.” She turned to Tia and Tana, and her tone softened. “Grilled cheese?”
“Yes,” they chorused.
Hank didn’t blame them. What looked like three kinds of cheese oozed from crusty Italian bread. He waited for Bethany to give him the remaining sandwich. It had been years since he’d enjoyed a grilled cheese. He would have to hit the gym tomorrow, but today he was playing hooky, so...
“Here you go.” Bethany offered the golden goodness to Rosie.
