“Cream or milk, whatever you have. And sugar would be fine, since I know you don’t have any stevia.” She wasn’t in the mood for black coffee today.
“Stevia?” Joyce shook her head as she got out a sugar bowl and spoon, then a pint of heavy cream from the refrigerator. “None of that here, sorry, love.”
“It’s all right.” Harper added a splash of cream, which Mitch must have not realized they had, and a good teaspoon of sugar. A little wouldn’t hurt. She stirred the coffee, then slipped the spoon into the sink.
“We can sit on the deck if you like,” Mitch said.
“Okay.”
A few moments later, they were seated there, him in a side chair, her on the couch. It was a little awkward. Noise from the kitchen filtered through. Probably Joyce baking something. Mitch seemed to want to talk but also like he didn’t know where to start. She got the impression he wasn’t used to making small-talk. Or conversation in general.
“How’s the book coming?” She sipped the coffee. It was delicious. Definitely better than what she’d been drinking. She needed to ask Joyce what brand she bought.
“Good.” He nodded. “Really good, actually. I owe you for the help.”
“I didn’t help.”
“You did,” he said. “You said something that triggered an idea and that idea snowballed and…” He shook his head as if he was mystified by what had occurred. “You helped.”
“Well, I’m glad to be of service.”
He glanced up, his gaze pinning her. “Would you mind if I ran a few ideas by you?”
Her stomach growled softly. She could eat later. “Not at all.”
Joyce suddenly appeared with the coffee pot in one hand and a plate in the other. “Anyone for more coffee?”
Harper shook her head. “I’m good.”
Mitch held his cup out.
Joyce set the plate in front of Harper. Toast with almond butter and honey. Joyce refilled Mitch’s cup and left, saying over her shoulder, “Give me a shout if you need anything.”
Harper smiled. “She’s good, isn’t she?”
Mitch’s expression was something between a grimace and a smile. “Too good, sometimes.”
Harper snorted softly.
He put his cup on the table and rested his elbows on his knees, inching toward the edge of his seat. “What would you think about Charlie Nightingale being in league with the mayor’s son while working for the ogre king at the same time?”
Harper sucked in a breath. “Now that’s interesting. When you say ‘in league with,’ are we talking alliance or romance?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…a little of both? What do you think?”
Mitchell Ripley was asking her questions about his books. Harper grinned. “I think readers have been waiting for Charlie to have a man in her life. Let’s talk about this some more.”
ChapterThirty-Four
Frankie hadn’t planned to go back to Lucas’s, but it wasn’t like she had anything else to do. Okay, she could be working on those illustrations, but this was Lucas Prime. Now she was seated at his kitchen island while delicious aromas wafted past her. He was making omelets with prosciutto, roasted red peppers and fresh mozzarella.
A woman could get used to this.
Scout and Archie were both passed out on the floor in a spot where the sun was coming through the sliders. She sent Harper a text.At Lucas’s. Working on logos. Back when done. Dogs had fun!
Mostly true. But she knew Harper would tease her about spending more time with Lucas. At the moment, Frankie didn’t care. This was worth some teasing. She sipped the French press coffee he’d made. “Do you have any thoughts about your logo? The feeling you want it to convey? That sort of thing.”
He nodded from his spot by the stove. He had two pans going so he could make two omelets at once. “I want it to say I’m a professional, but also fun. That I know what I’m doing in the kitchen, and I’m true to my roots. There needs to be a feeling of authenticity to it. I don’t want anything too slick, you know? I like things a little more rustic. Too slick and you look like you’ve been packaged by a firm in Manhattan that specializes in whatever makes the most money.” He smiled. “Maybe I’m not explaining this well. Do you get what I mean?”
