Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
She nodded. “I bet. Thank you for doing that for me.”
“You’re welcome. And you don’t have to clean up. The housekeeper will be here in the morning, and she can take care of it.”
“I’m just going to finish loading the dishwasher and take care of the pans,” she said, heading for the kitchen. “I’ve worked in too many restaurants to leave a mess.”
“Can I help?”
“No. But you can keep me company and you can say it’s okay to shoot some photos for my blog in here tomorrow. The light and surfaces are going to look amazing!”
I laughed. “Of course it’s okay. This is your kitchen now too.”
Her smile warmed my insides. “Thank you.”
I sat down at the island. “So tell me more about your business plans. What’s the ultimate goal?”
As she loaded the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher and washed the pans by hand, she spoke about her passion for creating colorful, delicious, nourishing recipes with seasonal ingredients—local as much as possible. “I love the combination of art and science that cooking takes, and I love the stories behind the places where ingredients come from—especially fruits and vegetables,” she said, laughing. “I know it’s not super sexy, but I think growing up running around Cloverleigh Farms really showed me the love and pride and passion families have for growing good things. And there are all kinds of small farms like that, passing down family traditions and recipes and methods. I’m fascinated by the human side of it. That’s what I missed in the test kitchen. The stories.”
I loved hearing her talk about her ideas and her passion as she moved around the kitchen, but it would have been easier to stay focused if she wasn’t wearing a pair of black shorts that showed off a lot of leg. On top she wore a white tank top and a light blue button-down, which was now tied around her waist. Her breasts looked so round and luscious in the tight little top, I was practically drooling on the marble counter. Since the moment she’d suggested we practice kissing, I’d been anticipating what might happen tonight. Was she really going to share my bed, or had putting her clothes in my dresser just been part of setting the stage?
I concentrated on what she was saying, afraid I’d zoned out for too long.
“I guess my ultimate goal would be to write cookbooks,” she said. “But I need to build a platform first in order for publishing houses to consider me. Unless you’re already a celebrity, it’s not easy to get a cookbook deal. You need something to make you stand out, a unique perspective, a fresh aesthetic.”
“I know some people in publishing. I could put you in touch with them.”
She smiled at me. “Thanks, but I want to do it on my own. I had this all planned out when I moved back. Frannie sat down with me, and we sort of mapped out the steps I should take. First, get my blog up and running. Next, start my catering business. Then, once I had traction and a bigger following—and some income—I could write the proposal for the book.”
“That makes sense.”
“I’m still finding my voice, you know?” She pushed her glasses up her nose before sticking her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “I’m still building confidence in myself and figuring out what I want to say and why people should listen.”
“I have faith in you,” I told her. “You’re smart and creative and intuitive. You’ll find the angle.”
“Thanks.” Her voice grew softer. “I remember when I wanted to drop out of Brown and go to culinary school. Everyone told me I was crazy except you.”
“I wanted you to do what makes you happy.”
“I know. I appreciated that. Most people just brought up the money—didn’t I realize I’d never make a doctor’s salary working in a restaurant?” She mimicked the voices of those who’d doubted her judgment.
“Money isn’t everything.”
“I agree.” She dropped her eyes to the counter. “Um, that thing you said. About New York?”
“Sorry about that.” I frowned. “As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realized I probably should have asked you first.”
“Hutton.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Stop apologizing to me. You never have to worry that I’ll take things like that the wrong way.”
“Does that mean you want to go?”
A smile lit up her face as she rose up on her toes. “Of course I do!” Then she dropped back onto her heels, her expression worried. “But not to buy a ring, right? Just for fun.”
“Don’t you think we should get you a ring? Everyone keeps asking.”
“Okay, but not a Tiffany ring. Something fake and cheap.” She placed her palms on the marble island and gave me a serious look. “I mean it, Hutton. No expensive ring.”