“Observation. Compliment. I’ll accept either from you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can feel myself smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly charming?”
“That’s not what I said.”
He leans in as he reaches past me to adjust the heat under the pot. “It’s going to boil over,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.
I freeze, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. For a heartbeat, we’re both perfectly still, suspended in this moment where his chest is nearly touching my back. It takes way more self-control than I want to have to not lean back into him and let him hold me.
But I don’t.
I keep reminding myself that he walked away from me my first morning here and that brings reality right back to the forefront of my mind.
Why didn’t he kiss me that day?
“Sorry,” he says, stepping away just as quickly. “Didn’t mean to crowd you.”
I clear my throat, desperately trying to regain my composure. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for saving dinner. My mom couldn’t cook dinner to save her life. Boxed mac and cheese was her specialty.”
Shepherd laughs, the sound warm and rich. “Nothing wrong with that. Comfort food is comfort food. My grandmother was the best cook I knew. When I was a kid, I’d sit on her kitchen counter and watch her make everything from scratch. No recipes, no measuring cups. Just instinct.”
“And she taught you?” I ask, trying not to notice how close he is, how the kitchen suddenly feels smaller.
“Some things. Other stuff I had to figure out on my own after she passed.” He continues chopping a green pepper, his expression thoughtful. “Cooking was how she showed love. I guess I picked up that habit too.”
The simplicity of his answer catches me off guard. There’s something so genuine about it that my chest tightens unexpectedly. I focus on my wine glass, tracing the rim with my finger.
“So, you cook elaborate meals and you build furniture out of wood. Is there anything you can’t do?”
He grins, and something warm and unfamiliar spreads through my chest.
“I can’t dance,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, at all. Two left feet doesn’t begin to cover it. My cousin’s wedding was a disaster.”
“No way. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I knocked over an entire table of wedding cake samples at the tasting. My cousin’s wife still hasn’t forgiven me.”
I laugh, the sound surprising me with its genuineness. “Okay, that I’d pay to see.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” he warns with a playful glint in his eye. “I might just take you up on that someday.”
The thought of “someday” with Shepherd makes my stomach flutter in a way I’m not ready to examine too closely, so I take another sip of wine instead.
“What about you?” he asks, pushing the chopped veggies off his cutting board and into the sauce. “What can’t Sutton Price do?”
“Trust people,” I say before I can stop myself. The honesty startles me as much as it seems to surprise him. Shepherd pauses, cutting board mid-air. His eyes find mine, something soft and understanding passing between us.
“I’m…” I shake my head embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
Other than the fact it’s the truest thing about me.
“Don’t apologize. That’s fair,” he says finally, his voice gentle as he glances back down at the sauce. “Trust is earned, not given.”
I expect him to push, to ask questions, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swiftly and effortlessly changes the subject. “So, what do you like to cook?”
“Um, nothing nearly this fancy,” I laugh. “I make a mean grilled cheese though.”
