“Thanks, Rita. I owe you one.”
“More than one,” she said, but he’d already hung up.
His brain was a propeller, spinning faster and faster and threatening to take him forward too quickly. It couldn’t be what he thought it was. But if what Rita was saying was true, was this Bethany Harold really Gabby’s mother? If so, how could he even tell her?
Goldie made her way through a few papers, laughing out loud at one student’s parody on cowboy boots verses high heels. She checked her email a few times for good measure.
Nothing. Which left the evening with Adrian. Alone, in his house.
The pit of her stomach curled. She braved a visit to town to gather the ingredients they needed and to fill her truck with gas. Fortunately, she’d made the trip often enough now she recognized a few landmarks.
After returning, she ate dinner and then sat on the porch swing with a sense of change in her bones. Something about tonight was different. Maybe it was the lightheaded cloud she’d been walking on since her kisses with Adrian. She couldn’t remember ever feeling comfortable enough with someone to admit her real name. She hadn’t even told her roommate, Sadie, what it was. To everyone, she was Goldie Bybanks.
To Adrian… She wasn’t sure what she was. Fake girlfriend, but how could that be when she’d been so real with him? She was Gabrielle. And he knew it now.
In the distance, Mrs. Bear and Jordan were making their way down the path before the barn and to the parking lot where her car waited. Goldie waited until they drove away, and then, groceries in hand, she made her way past the barn, past Kimmy and Chase’s house, and to the Bear’s residence on the outskirts. Fading sunlight cast a golden, purple glow along the grassland. She paused a moment to take in the sight.
Adrian was standing on the porch, his hair gloriously windswept and a shadow of stubble speckling his jawline. He carried a bundle beneath one arm and beamed at her.
“I was just about to come pick you up,” he said, offering her the bundle. It was a package wrapped in brown paper.
“What’s this for?”
“Open it.”
Goldie placed her bag of groceries on the step and tore the brown wrappings. Inside was a pair of cream aprons with little green chili peppers on them.
“Matching?” she said with a smile.
“Not quite. Would you rather I take the ruffled one for myself?” He fanned it out and held it to his chest.
Goldie laughed. It was just that much different from the more squared-off version in her hands. “Don’t knock the ruffles. I take it you don’t bake much.”
A shrug. “No better time to start. Here.” He slipped the apron over his head and tied it around his waist. Then he did the same for her, allowing his fingers to linger on her waist as he rotated her to tie hers. He then whipped out his phone and tilted in close.
Man, he smelled good. Goldie’s heart pounded as he pressed his cheek to hers.
“Smile,” he said, but she already was. It came so naturally with him. The phone made a snapping sound, and he rotated it for them both to see.
The image of her face with his cemented him into her heart that much more. “We look good together,” she said. On impulse, she added, “Will you send me a copy of that?”
He took a minute on his screen and then said, “Done. Now then. Ready to go? What do you have here?” Still in his apron, he bent for her bag of groceries.
“Supplies,” she said, opening the door.
The house was much as she expected. She wondered if this and Chase’s house had been built at similar times. The carpet, the layout, the granite on the counters, were all of similar shades to what the younger family’s home boasted. This one was just sans toys.
“It’s so nice here,” she said, circling on the kitchen tile and taking in the dark shade of the cabinets, the luxurious space. “It reminds me of your cabin.”
“After my mom decided to renovate the house and turn it into a B & B, she hired similar builders for this house, Chase’s and the cabin,” he said.
“You mean the main house used to be your family home?”
“Yep,” he said, leaning against the counter. She flattened the recipe on the countertop beside him.
“So. What’s first?” he asked.
She chewed her lip. She’d considered how to make this baking venture more interesting. In the moment, she wasn’t sure about suggesting it, but, throwing caution to the winds, she decided, why not?
“We assemble the ingredients…” she began.
“Perfect,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
Here goes. “But we have to do it one-handed.”
He quirked a brow. “Is that specified in the recipe?”
“Nope. Just my recipe with you.”
“Okay, then.” He tucked a hand behind his back. “One-handed it is.” Goldie did the same, tucking her arm behind her back. Together, they approached the counter.
“It would take forever if we made our own bread dough,” she said. “I got some refrigerated biscuits that we’ll use instead.”
“Perfect.” Adrian picked up the can. He stared at it before lowering it. “Exactly how am I supposed to open this one-handed?”
Goldie edged in, leaning against his arm as she offered her available hand to peel at the blue flap as he held it. “Teamwork,” she said.
Adrian’s eyes sparked. He held the can and she peeled. Her hand brushed his, and she thrilled at the feel of his skin and the excuse to touch him. Together, they pounded the can against the counter until it popped, startling her.
“I think you’re onto something here, with this one-handed thing,” he said. Their fingers had to touch as they peeled the pieces of refrigerated dough apart and placed them on the pan.
The touch alone was one thing. Add to it the sticky texture of the dough between their fingertips, and the intimacy rose to an intriguing level, becoming almost provocative. It tingled straight through her arm with every stroke.
“Now we need sugar,” she said, turning to the small bag she’d picked up from the store. She could have used Mrs. Bear’s ingredients, she supposed, but that kind of defeated the purpose.
“How much?” Adrian dug the measuring cup from its drawer and joined her side.
She had a hard time opening the container, and Adrian lifted his hand, pushing against her as he did so. With his help to measure the correct amount and scrape it evenly off the top, they turned to pour the collected sugar into the bowl—and collided.
Sugar splattered across Adrian’s chest and sprinkled Goldie’s nose. The two of them laughed, and after he swept a bit of sugary dust from his shoulder, he didn’t pull away from her. Instead, his arm wove its way around, securing her to him.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she said.
“This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”
Her eyes narrowed. She couldn’t think, being held by him as she was. “How do you know the sum total of my ideas?” she asked playfully.
“Intuition, remember?” He leaned in, tipping his head closer. His gaze tripped to her mouth, intensifying her pulse to sprinting level. They hadn’t been this close since their moment in the barn and while now they were in a kitchen with a vaulted ceiling, with bright lights gleaming around them, she felt no less secluded. She was here, alone with him. And this may or may not have turned out exactly as she’d hoped.