“That’s not what Travis says.” Rosie smirked. “Travis says?—”
“You know Travis likes to exaggerate.” Bethany waved a hand again as if she could conjure an off switch. “We’re fine.”
“Miss Bethany lets me make cookies.” Tia clapped her hands together.
“Me, too,” Tana said. “She lets me make cookies too. In the kitchen.”
“You’re both helpers,” Rosie said. “Sit up straight now and finish your sandwiches.”
Hank looked toward Bethany, but she’d given them her back and was halfway to the kitchen, her movements hurried, like she couldn’t get away fast enough.
“She’s modest too.” Rosie grinned, but Hank almost didn’t notice.
He couldn’t remember the last time any woman—any person—had been so unimpressed by his star status, they’d given him their back. Bethany didn’t seem impressed with either his looks or the fact he was her landlord.
No, all she seemed to care about was her restaurant. For that, she’d stood in his face and demanded answers. You had to respect a woman like that.
A ringing sound had Hank glancing toward his cell phone on the table. Robert Blackman, his agent.He really, really did not want to talk to Blackie at this moment—heeyed the plate Bethany had set in front of him—not when a gooey grilled cheese sandwich was staring him in the face.
Hank silenced the ringer and bit into the grilled cheese. Once again, he found himself closing his eyes to savor all the flavors on his tongue.
“Delicioso, isn’t it?” Rosie asked.
“Sí, señorita.” Hank nodded.
But he was certain he was referring to more than the sandwich.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bethany swiped a hand across her cheek and eyed the lump of sugar cookie dough she’d dumped on the kitchen worktable. Shouts of laughter rang from the other room.
Mister High and Mighty TV Star sat in her front room chatting with Rosie and the children like he was their hired entertainment. Bethany didn’t have the heart to tell them they were laughing with the man who might put an end to their free lunches. She raised her shoulders and let them drop but it didn’t remove the tension that squeezed her aching muscles like a taut rubber band.
Although he’d said he didn’t plan to open a fitness center, Bethany knew his type. She had almost married one. Desmond Mitchell, her lying ex-fiancé, was a handsome, talented, and well-known chef, but he was also without an ounce of compassion for anyone but himself. He had known what the business meant to her and Travis and the entire community, but none of it had mattered. He’d stolen the insurance money she’d been planning to use to pay off the mortgage from their joint savings account.Then he’d used it to rent a fancy apartment in New York and start his own cooking show.
She picked up the rolling pin and attacked the dough as if she could blot out his memory. It had been twelve long months, but his betrayal haunted her thoughts whenever she was tired or lonesome or missing her parents’ calm advice.
“Can you believe Apollo is eating lunch in our restaurant?” Travis didn’t wait for Bethany to respond. Good thing because she wasn’t in the mood. “We should have enough supplies to last the month, and we’ve got plenty of donations.” He paused in the middle of wiping his hands on his shirt. “What’s the matter?”
Bethany stopped what she was doing and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you roll that dough any thinner, we’ll be able to see through it.”
Bethany stopped rolling to eye the mangled dough. “Darn it.”
Travis held out a hand with a grin. “I’ll roll; you watch.”
She sighed and gave up the pin.
He pointed to the stool next to the worktable. “Sit there and do nothing. You’ve been on your feet much longer than me.”
“This isn’t necessary.”
“You don’t always have to play the big sister.” Travis set down the pin and made a show of washing his hands at the sink and drying them with a dish towel hanging nearby before putting on the plastic gloves they wore to handle food. “You think I don’t know what today is? I’ve been thinking about them too, you know.”
That stopped her protests. Because she hadn’t been thinking about the anniversary of their parents’ deaths. Notentirely. No, half of her mind had been on Hank Haverill and how much he reminded her of her thieving ex-fiancé.
Bethany tossed her gloves in the garbage can, then sat and watched Travis roll the dough. “Don’t cut out the cookies. I promised the girls they can help.”
