Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
He sounded more than a little confused. Probably my fault for not making my intentions to see him again today clearer, but I’d been riding a high of good tacos and great conversation. We’d had so much to talk about, from my EMT work to his law school and clerkship experiences. Leaving after dinner had been hard, but eventually, I’d run out of excuses to stay. I had, however, promptly dreamed up my plan for this morning on the drive home. And more accurately, I hadn’t told Tennessee because I didn’t want him to put me off. Grownup Tennessee was as polite and unlikely to ask for help as kid Tennessee had been.
“No, I came over to ensure Clifford had a fresh can of food.” I smiled encouragingly as I, Mouse, and my big bag made our way into the apartment. I’d offered to open a can for the cat’s breakfast and leave it in the fridge, but conveniently, Tennessee had said Clifford was unlikely to eat it cold and pre-opened. “You said he was finicky.”
“I did.” Fishing a hair tie out of his pocket, Tennessee smoothed his rumpled hair into something of a presentable ponytail. Darn. I’d been having fun imagining that hair falling all over my skin. Tennessee, all prim and proper, didn’t serve my purposes nearly so well. “Thank you for thinking of Clifford.”
Said cat was lounging on the couch, soaking up the sun, and hardly looked in danger of starving. He had to be a good fifteen pounds, at least, and definitely weighed more than Mouse, who gave the air a delicate and haughty sniff. Tennessee moved the donut box to the dining room table, so I followed him, dragging a reluctant Mouse along. For a dog, she could be as stubborn as a mule and definitely as stubborn and reluctant to follow orders as most cats.
“Of course.” I undid Mouse’s leash so she could go hide under the couch. She’d spent most of the night before there, no more interested in the cat than in making friends with Tennessee. Unlike me. I had plans. “And the donuts are a bribe.”
“A bribe?” Eyes going narrow, Tennessee pursed his lips.
“You sound like you need coffee.” I reached into the bag of groceries to remove the thermos of French press brew I’d packed. “Luckily, I brought some of that as well.”
“Thank you.” He fetched two cups and two small plates from the kitchen and set them on the table. “Explain the bribe.”
“You said I could use your oven,” I said airily as I poured each of us a cup of coffee. My mom liked to say I was a human bulldozer when it came to getting my way. She wasn’t wrong, but in this case, my forwardness was motivated by the weird certainty I’d had since I laid eyes on Tennessee yesterday. We were supposed to be best friends again. Maybe more. Was like at second sight a thing? I hoped so. Tennessee nodded before sipping his coffee carefully, so I continued, “And tomorrow and Tuesday, I’m scheduled for light-duty shifts, so I was hoping that after I feed Clifford, I could whip up two batches of my famous brownies. One for us and one for the family I was telling you about down the street.”
“Are your famous brownies the same rocky road variety you invented at eleven?”
“Sort of.” I grinned because the Tennessee I knew was a total chocaholic. No way could he resist me. “Those first batches started with a mix and my mom’s pantry.” I unpacked my bag onto his table, revealing high-quality dark chocolate, local nuts, gourmet marshmallows, and other key ingredients. “The ones I make these days are a from-scratch evolution of that general idea.”
“I’m in.” He nodded—exactly as I’d hoped—before drinking more coffee. “I remember being impressed your mom let you experiment with food. And the results were pretty good.”
“I’ve only gotten better with age.” I winked, loving how Tennessee turned four shades of purple before busying himself with selecting a chocolate-maple donut. “And my mom wasn’t about to let any of her kids out of the house without basic cooking skills. You should have seen her when she heard my apartment stove only has two burners.”
“The horror.” Tennessee managed to sound a lot like my mom, who’d never met a stranger she didn’t want to feed.
“I know.” Chuckling, I glanced toward Tennessee’s spacious kitchen. “But I work so many hours that paying for more than a studio doesn’t make sense. Mouse came along more recently, though, and that’s been an adjustment, having a dog in studio living.”
“Mouse might like a yard.” Tennessee nodded thoughtfully before pointing at the door in the rear of the kitchen. “Mine is shared with the upstairs tenants, but it’s fenced if Mouse needs to go out while we bake.”