Page 34 of The Sweetness of Life

I’ve replayed what I saw and the conversation I heard at the Feeding America event over and over in my head. I know I didn’t get it wrong; she said, “If he had known I was a critic, I would have gotten better food. How he stays in business, I will never know.”

How bad could the food have possibly been?

But then I hear her talking about how she loves to find new places and looks for the magic in each one, and I don’t understand. Yesterday, she said it wasn’t always about the food, that it was about the total experience. Something doesn’t add up, and the more I try to figure it out and remind myself she’s still a critic in the end, the more unsettled I feel.

Just thinking I might have pegged her all wrong causes uneasiness to creep its way in. The way I’ve talked to her, the way I’ve made her feel, even the plan we derived to win her over . . . I find myself questioning everything.

And then, to make it worse, I keep hearing the excitement in Lexi’s voice when she talked about introducing us. She’s Lexi’s friend, and Lexi is a very good judge of character. Then again, someone being a critic isn’t a character flaw to her, but it is to me—that, and she’s a workaholic. The thing is, it doesn’t really matter what Shelby thinks of me as a person. She’s been here for almost a week and only has one to go. Who knows if or when I’ll ever see her again. I certainly don’t intend to. I only need her to write a glowing article and a stellar blog post on a blog she does for fun, because one job isn’t enough for her; she needs to give up all her time.

Shaking my head, I pull myself out of bed, take a quick shower, grab a few things, and lock my door behind me. I remind myself to stick to the plan and head down to the cottage to spend the evening with Shelby and keep things low-key.

When I reach the cottage, I let myself in. I know it’s probably rude, but technically, it’s my house, and other than me, who is coming down here to see her? Still, I make a point to close the door loudly and make noise as I walk inside.

“Hey,” she calls out from the kitchen when she sees me. “How are you feeling?” She wipes her hands across an apron tied around her waist and smiles. Her eyes are bright but filled with concern, and my heart thuds against my chest unexpectedly. Her and that damn smile. I hate that I have this involuntary reaction to her.

“Better. I’m really sorry about yesterday. I’m sure having to take care of me wasn’t on your list of things to do. I appreciate it, so thank you.” I place the bag I brought on the island and sit on a stool across from her.

There’s a sincerity in her expression as she studies my face. I know she’s looking for lingering traces of the migraine, and it makes me feel exposed and cared for at the same time.

“Michelle said it happens a lot.” She moves to the cabinet, grabs a glass, and fills it with water before setting it in front of me. Her thoughtfulness in gestures like this doesn’t go unnoticed, and again I’m reminded that it’s reasons like this she’s friends with Lexi.

Taking a swallow, I soak in her appearance. She’s got her hair all tied up and messy on top of her head, her face is makeup free, and she’s wearing a T-shirt that reads: Will write for food.

Shit.

Her adorability factor is rising, and I really need to stop noticing these things.

“More like comes and goes, but lately it feels like a lot,” I tell her honestly.

She frowns. It’s the same frown she wore yesterday when I walked away from her.

Kyle was at the side door of the manor waiting for us as she tore down the driveway. He handed me a pill before I even got out of the truck, and I swallowed it dry before I started the mental countdown I know it takes for the medication to kick in. Kyle slung an arm around my shoulder and helped me up the steps to the west wing. I heard Shelby ask if she could do anything to help, but Michelle told her no and said she and Kyle would take it from there. For a split second, I wanted to argue with her and tell her it was fine, but the energy required to talk was more than I had in me, and it was taking every bit of power I had not to lose my lunch all over the ground. Collapsing in my bed, I missed the smell of honey and her fingers in my hair. No one has ever rubbed my head like that, and I wanted more.

Looking around the kitchen, I chuckle at the mess she’s made. “Wow, you’ve cooked a lot today.” There are large platters of food that look as if they could feed a dozen people lined along the top of the island. “And you made the biscuits.” My mouth starts watering.

She grins and wipes down the counter in front of her. “I told you I would, and I did make a lot. I needed to make sure I had the correct measurements. A few of them I made more than once to see which version I liked better.”

Next to me there are three bowls of macaroni and cheese. “What are you going to do with all this food?”

“I thought I would take it to Michelle to see if she wants to put it out at the bar to let the tasters try. Is that all right with you?” Her eyes widen as she waits for the answer, and again I find myself in a situation where I can’t tell her no—not that I would. This food looks amazing.

“I think it’s a great idea, and I’ll help you here in a bit, but first, I brought the reds down. I thought we could taste them here. It’s quieter and there’s no audience.”

“Don’t we need to call the photographer?” She pulls the strings of the apron and it slips off her waist, leaving her in a pair of gray leggings that show off their shape and hug her perfectly.

“Nah, he can meet us another time and get a picture of us drinking the reds then.”

“Should you be drinking after that headache?” Her face is full of concern.

“I’ll be fine. We really aren’t drinking much, just tasting, and interestingly I haven’t found wine to be much of a trigger.”

She looks at me hesitantly, shrugs her shoulders, and then smiles. “Okay, well let’s see what you brought.”

Opening the bag, I pull out four bottles of red wine, four tasting glasses, and a wine key.

“Will you grab us another glass of water? Palate cleanse between each one.”

“Sure.” Shelby turns around, giving me an awesome view of her ass, and grabs the extra glass.