He tried to lighten the moment. “And maybe you’re underestimating my astute powers of intuition.”
A bit of rigidness left her shoulders, her lips curling in an almost-smile.
He felt like he’d won a race. “Hungry? There’s a fried bologna sandwich with your name on it.”
“Actually, I am. Thank you.”
“Right this way.” They passed through the French doors to the dining room. “You can have a seat anywhere.”
But as he slipped through the kitchen door, she was still on his heels. They’d made some commercial upgrades when they’d remodeled, including a large butcher block island, complete with two stools. Molly could often be found in the mornings sitting here chatting with Miss Della when she was supposed to be manning the front desk for checkouts.
Mia set her hand on one of the stools. “Mind if I just eat in here?”
“Make yourself at home.”
She settled on a stool. “I used to eat in the kitchen when I was a kid. Our housekeeper and cook, Lettie, was like a second mom to me.”
“That’s pretty much how Miss Della is to us.”
“I can see that. I love Lettie so much that when my mom passed I hired her. I’d want her around even if she wasn’t so good at what she does.”
“She sounds great.” She must be special indeed to have gotten inside Mia’s fortress.
He took the tinfoil off the plate he’d made and added some fresh fruit from this morning’s breakfast. He set it in front of her and added a water bottle from the fridge.
He felt her appraisal as he moved about the kitchen and resisted the urge to flex. Since when was he such a poser? He was a decent-looking guy, and he worked out several times a week. That plus all the work around here kept him in shape. But she was used to the likes of... Well, he didn’t know many actors by name. But she was out of his league—he knew that for sure.
And why was he even going down that road?
“Sorry I snapped at you earlier,” she said quietly. “It had nothing to do with you.”
He gave her a tentative smile. “No worries. You were upset.”
“I was more angry than anything. I cry when I’m angry.” She took a bite of the sandwich.
“My sister Molly does that. She hates it.”
“This is good,” she said when she swallowed the bite. “I hate it too. Everyone thinks you’re hurting when really you just want to throat punch someone.”
His lips twitched at the thought of Mia getting violent. She was a nice person, likeable, and definitely not inclined to punching.
He leaned against the kitchen counter opposite her, a little amused at how much she seemed to be enjoying the food.
“Jax put out a press release this morning. He claims I was pursuing him for months and just grabbed him and kissed him that night.”
“Let me guess—it was the other way around.”
She did a double take. “How’d you know?”
He winked at her. “That intuition of mine.”
Did he really just wink? He was getting awfully comfortable with Mia. Too comfortable? He was always after Molly for lacking boundaries with the guests. But those lines, always so obvious before, seemed fuzzy with Mia. It was the vulnerable situation she was in, along with his desire to protect her.
“I’ll be putting out a press release through my agent, Nolan, but it’s probably too little, too late.”
“What does he advise beyond that?”
She lifted her slim shoulders. “We’ll have to play it by ear. See how people respond to the releases. He thinks it’s best if I stay put for now, stay off social media, and let the press release do its job. Fans will take sides. I’m not sure how this is going to impact the film we just wrapped. Nolan’s also working on that. We’re supposed to do a publicity tour when it releases to theaters.”
