The Plus One by Blevins Rebecca

Author:Blevins, Rebecca [Blevins, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aspen Grove Press
Published: 2016-12-07T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Rachel stirred, warm and lazy under a cozy blanket. The room was bright. Too bright. Had she forgotten to draw the shades again? Marcie would be mad.

She smelled something kind of strong but kind of good, and entirely wrong at this hour of the morning even though she couldn’t place the scent. She brought her wrist to her face and squinted at her watch. 10:47. Okay, this hour of the almost afternoon.

Was that . . . baked beans? She rose up onto her elbow, looked around, and was momentarily disoriented before everything came rushing back. The roller coasters, knees touching, and . . . the almost kiss. That surge of happiness changed to frustration as she remembered more. She flopped down again and moaned. “Oh, no. My truck!”

“Good morning, Rip Van Winkle. I thought you’d sleep forever!” Braden strode into view, wearing blue lounge pants, a plain white t-shirt, and carrying a cup of tea. He set it on a coaster. Rachel didn’t realize anyone actually used coasters. Granny had tried to get her customers to use them at the inn, but the little kids only threw them off the tables, so she’d just made sure all of the furniture tops had a thick layer of polyurethane.

Wait a second. “Rip van Winkle? Aren’t you supposed to call me something like Sleeping Beauty?”

Braden smirked. “Well, I would have, except for that beard you grew overnight—” He ducked as she threw a pillow at him. “There, there. I brought you tea. And I’ll make you toast if you like. I’m not a great cook, but I can scramble an egg. Or make you the American version of toad-in-the-hole, which is an egg cooked in the toast. Not nearly as good as the English version, but I haven’t got any bangers.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Bangers?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sausages.”

She sat up and reached for the tea, then took a sip. “Mmm. This is good. I think I will have some toast—hold the toad—but for now, I’d like to sit here and drink this. Well, in a minute.” She got up and went to the restroom, and when she got back, Braden had a piece of toast on a plate and was buttering it. She brought her cup of tea over to the bar. “What’s that?” She pointed at his toast.

“That, my dear”—she got a little thrill at the way he said dear—”is a proper English breakfast. Or at least as proper as one can get when one is super hungry. More like poor college boy’s food. I’ve always liked it.”

“Is that—is that beans on toast?” She’d never heard of such a thing.

“Indeed it is. Would you like to try some?” He looked as if he expected her to say no, but if that was the case, he’d be surprised.

“Of course I will. It looks good.” And in an odd way, it did. Braden scooped some beans from a bowl onto her toast. She took a bite, all soft and crunchy at the same time.

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