“Oh, yeah?”
“Any chance you’re free tonight?”
“Rachel Joy, are you asking me out on a date?” Shuffling the branches from one arm to the other, Holden propped open the flower shop door and let her pass through first. She didn’t answer. Not the time for jokes, apparently. “I am free. How about this? You come to my place around seven and I’ll cook dinner. Maybe we can even finish decorating that tree if you’re up for it?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Holden agreed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that things wouldn’t stay that way for long.
* * *
Béarnaise was a temperamental sauce.Those were just the facts. He wasn’t sure why he’d selected a recipe that required so much whisking. He had stirred the mixture for what felt like all evening, and based on the remaining steps to go, he wasn’t even close to done.
As he stared into the saucepan, his mind wandered back to that afternoon. Rachel’s tone had turned serious when she’d asked to meet. He couldn’t pinpoint why. Things with their parents seemed surprisingly fine. Holden even overheard his father call Stewart Joy, congratulating him on their tree’s selection with a maturity that had been absent in recent weeks. If that wasn’t an improvement, Holden didn’t know what was.
For the first time in decades, the Hart/Joy feud seemed put to rest with things settled in a manner that left everyone pleased.
So why didn’t Rachel appear that way?
Scout heard her knock first. The dog dashed to the front door and Holden followed. He hadn’t bothered to remove his apron or even discard the wooden spoon. He brought them all with him, looking his domestic best.
It wasn’t often he had company to cook for, but it was something he took great pride in. Which was why he kept the greeting short and scurried back to his finicky steak sauce. They’d come this far—he wasn’t about to let the recipe fail now.
“I didn’t know you were such a chef.”
Rachel slipped her ski jacket from her shoulders and settled it over a barstool. She looked gorgeous in a powder blue sweater with slim fit jeans paired with leather booties. Her hair pulled into a low ponytail at her neck and framed her face in feminine wisps.
Holden drew in a breath. “You look gorgeous.”
A flicker of embarrassment sprinted over her face before she reconciled it with a smile. “Thank you, Holden. You look—”
“Like I’ve been in the kitchen all day, which would be a fair assessment. This béarnaise sauce is no joke. I think I’ve spent more time whisking this than I did working up a business plan for our rental company. And I spent a year on that!”
“I’ve heard it’s a fairly difficult sauce to make. But oh so yummy.” She rubbed her stomach and glanced toward the steaks on the counter. “And I’m starving. This smells so wonderful.”
They made more small talk in the kitchen, and despite the cramp in his hand, Holden was actually a little grateful the meal took so long to prepare. It put off whatever Rachel really wanted to discuss. Holden wasn’t sure he was ready for that. It had only been a couple of days that things had been normal between them. Hopeful, even. He wanted to sit in that space and enjoy that feeling for as long as he could.
“You’re probably not going to want to hear this,” she said after taking the last bite of her meal. She lowered her fork to the plate with a little clink.
Holden ran his cloth napkin over his mouth. She was right. He didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. How else could he delay the inevitable? Maybe the meal should’ve been more courses—that would’ve drawn things out even longer.
“This is the best béarnaise sauce I’ve ever eaten,” she finally finished the thought she’d left hanging in the air. “I know it’s time consuming to make, but I think you should add this to your repertoire of go-to sauces. It’s a real winner.”
Thatwas the bad news? Holden knew it wasn’t. There was still more waiting in the wings.
“I think I’ll keep this one on reserve for special occasions only.”
“Is that what this is?” She lifted her wineglass to her mouth, her brilliant smile even more dazzling behind the crystal. “A special occasion?”
“Considering our history, I would say so.” Lifting the bottle of white wine from the ice bucket on the table, Holden topped off her glass and then refilled his own. “It’s a special occasion when Rachel Joy and Holden Hart can be civil for an entire meal,” he teased.
“I think we can be more than civil.” She chased the flirtatious words with a sip of wine and a wink that had Holden almost choking.
Maybe he didn’t need that second glass. His head already spun like he’d had a few too many as he tried to interpret that unexpected gesture.
“We should get to work on that tree.” Rachel scooted back from the table. She stacked their plates and collected their utensils.
“You don’t need to do that,” he insisted. “I’ll take care of all that later.”
