She didn’t have to look behind her to know who the voice belonged to. Her egg fell from her spoon, scattering on the tablecloth around her plate.
Dane pulled the chair away and set his plate down, which was heaped to the rim.
“You look rested. That tea must have done the trick,” he said.
She reloaded her spoon, scooping up half the amount she’d spilled.
“It did. Always does.” Hilary brought the napkin to her mouth while she chewed. “It must have worked for you too. Oh wait, you’re not a tea drinker.” She hid her smile behind the napkin, glancing at him.
Dane grinned. He was a good-looking guy when he wasn’t smiling. She couldn’t help but notice it on Sunday when she saw him for the first time at the airport. But here in the sunny room, the laugh lines around his eyes and his reddened cheeks from spending most of the afternoon outside yesterday at Del’s farm were on full display. It added to his charm. Hilary looked away quickly when she realized she’d been staring.
“Very funny,” he said. “I was just thinking how nice it was to talk to you last night. Now I realize it only gave you ammunition to pick on me.”
She giggled. “You have to be careful these days.”
His gaze raked over her while she chewed. She focused on her breakfast, pushing egg around on her plate. Maybe she should have taken the meal in her room after all. If she ate any slower, it’d be time for lunch before she finished. Why wasn’t he eating?
“I was thinking about what you said last night,” he said, finally picking up his fork. “About your mother’s pies.”
“Oh?”
“Have you thought about selling pies and other apple-based goods? If your mother is that good of a baker—”
“The best.”
“I’m sure she is,” he said with a small smile. “I wasn’t questioning her skills.”
“Sorry.” Hilary set her fork down and took a deep breath. His closeness made her so self-conscious.
“The pie bible of hers might mean you’re sitting on a gold mine.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“You have an apple orchard that isn’t being used. There would be hardly any overhead. And your mother is a professional baker.”
“That doesn’t mean she passed her talent to me.”
Dane gave her a skeptical look. “C’mon. You told me last night you’re the family dessert czar.”
“Czarina.”
“Is that what you call a female czar? Sorry, I erred on the side of caution.”
She chuckled. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
His grin broadened. “You did.”
“It was one o’clock in the morning. People tell a lot of untruths at that hour of the night.”
Dane propped an elbow on the table, resting his cheek in his hand. “Really?”
She nodded. “All the time.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds too long. A shiver ran through Hilary. Her face grew hot and she looked down at her plate. She laughed again.
“I’ve forgotten where we were going with this.”
The spell broken, Dane reached for his coffee.
