Jack ran into the room, and I picked up the knife.
"Explain," I said to Jack. His eyes were wide as he gaped at me.
"Hartleigh—"
"Hartleigh was up here?" I screeched. I sounded crazy and irrational, but I'd had a hard day. And if Jack was banging Hartleigh…
"That harlot!" I yelled.
"It's not what it looks like," Jack pleaded.
"Really? Because it looks like I interrupted something between the two of you. I don't need you to waste my time."
"That's not…" He blew out a breath and sat down on one of the stools at the counter. "She's… she finagled the key code from the security guard and snuck in here. She's been stalking me. I guess it's escalated."
"Stalking you?" I said, shocked. I remembered him saying he didn't like her, something to do with being an annoying family friend, but stalking was a whole other situation. "If she's stalking you, how is she working here? Don't you have a restraining order?"
Jack barked out a laugh. "Look around. Romance Creative is some half-baked production company. I mean, they had you helping set up decorations. It's not like this is some streamlined enterprise."
"But they have tens of millions of views!" I protested. "They could have at least done some due diligence, for goodness sake."
Jack looked upset, and I felt bad for yelling at him. I set down the knife and went around the island to him. I hugged him to my chest.
"The lingerie was supposed to be a gift for you," he mumbled. "But she broke in and took it."
I petted his hair.
"It's been like this for decades," Jack said. "I can't escape her. If only Belle were here…"
"That’s your sister?"
Jack nodded. "Hartleigh was afraid of her. Belle must have threatened her or something."
I wanted to commiserate, tell him about my crazy cousin, but then I wondered if that might scare him off. Drug addict with a criminal record was different from an upper-middle-class family friend turned stalker. Cody and his junkie friend might be a little too real for Jack. I didn't want him to think I was a trashy drama llama.
I stroked his hair until he seemed to calm down. He wrapped his arms around me then pulled me down to kiss him.
"What are you making?" he asked, standing up to look over my purchases. "You didn't have to buy all this, Chloe."
"It's not a problem," I said.
"I thought you were broke," he said.
"I said it's not a problem!" I huffed. "I'm cooking for you. Just sit tight. I'm going to make you something delicious. It's a new creation. I’m calling them soup muffins. You'll like them; I thought them up just for you."
I draped the bacon over the back side of the muffin tin and set it in the oven. It would make little cups of bacon that I would use instead of muffin liners. Then I chopped onions, cubed potatoes, and shredded cheese.
"I hope this works," I told him as I mixed up my batter.
I wanted the muffins to be crispy on the outside and gooey and savory on the inside. After spooning the mixture into my bacon baking tins, I wacked the pan a bit to release any lingering air pockets.
As they baked, I watched the oven nervously.
"You're like a little cat or something with those muffins," Jack said.
"Don’t call me anything inane like kitten or goose or mouse or something. People who call their significant others animal names weird me out."
He laughed. "You would hate my parents, then. My father calls my mother bunny duck."
