Hadley Beckett's Next Dish by Bethany Turner

Author:Bethany Turner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance;Love Stories;FIC042040;FIC027020
ISBN: 9781493423156
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

17. Allow to cool.

MAX

“So, what do we do?” Hadley asked as she walked into her dark kitchen and began rummaging through a drawer.

Max smiled at her as she fumbled around, unable to find what she was looking for in the drawer, but also unable to remember where the light switch was. Finally, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on its light.

“Well, here’s an idea. Just thought of this. We could practice.”

She pulled two forks out and held them up, and Max went hurrying in to grab one of them. He hadn’t been kidding about needing more Bouille Hadley. She had an uncanny way of making him throw self-control out the window.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her, after all. And he hadn’t even been thinking about it. But there was something about the sight of her in the open door, furious with him for reasons he didn’t even understand, shaking her phone at him. He’d just needed her. That’s all there was to it.

“Give me that,” he insisted, pulling the plate of cake away from her.

“Okay,” she began, cake still in her mouth. “What do you mean? Practice how? Practice what?”

He stuffed another bite in before he had swallowed the last. The woman was a dessert genius. “Being in the kitchen together. I think if we refuse to let them manipulate the situation—”

Hadley pointed her fork at him. “See, that’s the thing. Don’t you think we can just agree to not let them manipulate the situation . . . and then they won’t be able to manipulate the situation? Do you really think we need to practice that?”

The last crumb of the dessert was lingering on her bottom lip, and Max wasn’t sure if it was a final taste of Bouille Hadley or its creator’s mouth that he was more eager to capture. She licked the crumb away before he had the chance to attack, but when the eagerness didn’t go away, he figured his question about preference had been answered.

For heaven’s sake, Max. At least show enough self-control to get through this conversation.

He cleared his throat and scratched his neck at the spot where the beard began. “We walked into this kitchen as friends today. And it took . . . what? Ten minutes? We were at each other’s throats in ten minutes.”

“That’s just because you turn into a jerk on air.”

“And you turn into an episode of Designing Women.”

“Excuse me?”

Max looked into her eyes and saw the humor behind them, and he understood it was okay to tease.

He took on a dialect that was, admittedly, more Deliverance than Designing Women. “Let’s see . . . a pinch of salt . . . a smidge of cream . . .”

She laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “I would never say a smidge of cream!”

“And more sugar than you can shake a stick at, y’all. Oh, that looks about right, I’d say . . .”

“I cook from the heart!”

“Oh, is that it?”

“Yes!” And then her laughter abruptly ended.

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