Edward followed her in the house and walked straight over to the fridge, but instead of opening it, he pulled out the mop they kept between the fridge and the wall, and then checked the cupboard under the sink, probably in search of a bucket.
She wanted to be mad at him, but everything she said lately had ‘rescue me’ written all over it, like she was some poor damsel in distress. He’d bandaged up her wounds the other night, for crying out loud.
“I did not invite you in to mop for me. Hand me that.”
He did, reluctantly, before glancing around. “Tell me what else you need done.”
“Quit looking around for projects.”
“Quit refusing to put me to work. I’m rarely of use to anyone. I’d like to be of use to you.”
Their standoff became a staring contest, and Elinor reached behind her for the counter, needing something solid besides the intensity of Edward’s stare. “Is this how you’re going to be as a boss?” she asked quietly.
He looked away. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not being very neighborly, am I?”
Elinor gave him a small smile. “I think you’re being too neighborly.” She propped the mop against the counter and went to the fridge. “What do you feel like? My mom’s been cooking and baking up a storm today. I think it makes her feel more at home here. Or maybe she’s just hoping Marianne and I won’t ever try again. Sorry about the chicken and rice the other night. I’m normally a better cook.”
“The dinner was fine.”
“Exactly. It was adequate. Edible. Barely. Try my mom’s chicken salad on homemade rolls. It will rock your world.” She made two sandwiches and took the stool next to him at the bar, taking a bite of hers. She hadn’t realized she was hungry until her long, rambling speech about food.
“This is amazing.” Edward smiled. He finished off his sandwich before her and got up, edging over to the side of the fridge again where he pulled out the broom this time. “I’m just going to prep.”
“You’re a monster.” Elinor took her last bite and carried both their plates to the sink, letting the water warm before getting out the mop bucket.
What was taking her family so long? Edward finished sweeping and brought her the mop.
She took it from him and dunked it in the soapy water before wringing it out and starting from the back door. “Tell me more about Brandon.”
“What do you want to know?” Edward wet a sponge with soap and water and wiped down the counters. The man apparently couldn’t help himself.
“I don’t know. Anything you know that you haven’t already told us. I got the impression he was attracted to Marianne, but I don’t know if I should encourage that or not.”
“He’s been married before. At least, that’s what John said. It was right out of high school. She just up and left one day.”
“Oh.” That was another strike against the guy. Marianne would never be interested in being someone’s second wife, no matter the reason. She had some romantic notion about an instantaneous, soul-crushing, only-one-made-for-you kind of love. It didn’t allow for previous mistakes or bad first impressions. It didn’t allow for reality, in Elinor’s opinion, but she’d keep that to herself.
“He’s really nice. I think he’ll be a good neighbor to you, regardless of whether either of you are interested in dating him.”
Elinor purposely didn’t turn to look at him. If Edward was fishing for information on Elinor’s thoughts on dating Brandon, he could try another pond.
It was a relief when she heard the front door open, followed by the sounds of Marianne and Greta laughing.
After warning them all not to step foot on her wet floor, she retreated to her room, where she could avoid Edward’s gorgeous blue eyes and tan arms and her inconvenient attraction to him, which absolutely needed to go away before her first day of work.
