space, she didn’t push him away.
“I’ve missed you, too, Lorelei,” he said before leaning in, turning his head left, then right, leaving nothing but a breath between them. He wanted her to come to him, and she did.
With a hard bite to his bottom lip.
“What’d you do that for?” Spencer asked, drawing back with his hand on his lip. He checked his fingertips to see if she’d drawn blood.
“You should have backed off when I told you to,” she said, trying to look confident but her eyes gave her away. She may have won this battle, but the war still raged inside her.
Spencer would let her have the victory. Tonight.
“A simple push on my chest would have done the trick.”
A car came up the drive, drawing their attention. The pair watched as Rosie pulled her sedan along the left side of the house.
“This isn’t over,” Spencer said, backing away.
“Is that a threat?” Lorelei asked.
Turning at the bottom of the stairs, he tipped his cowboy hat. “No, ma’am. That’s a promise.”
Chapter 9
Lorelei measured out the flour three times before she was satisfied it was right. She’d burned the first batch of oatmeal cookies, and somehow messed up the measurements on the chocolate chip ones, because they were tasteless when they came out of the oven. As much as she wanted to cry, Lorelei refused to give up. She sent up a rare prayer of thanks that Granny was still at church, because if she were home, she’d be soothing Lorelei and nudging her out of the way to take over.
But this was not Granny’s responsibility. Lorelei had convinced Snow to sell desserts that
she
had made, not Granny. Besides, if Granny made them, everyone in town would know where they came from. Which was the reason Lorelei had pulled recipes off the Internet instead of using her grandmother’s steno pad recipe books.
Anonymity was the key ingredient in these cookies.
“Something smells good in here,” Spencer said as he stepped into the house. “Is that oatmeal?”
“Burnt oatmeal,” Lorelei said, wiping her hands on the blue polka-dot apron covering her from shoulder to knee. “I mistimed the first batch.”
“Good,” he said, snatching a blackened cookie off the counter. “That means I get to eat them.”
Lorelei had remained in her room doing recipe research all day on Saturday—some might have called it hiding, but whatever—so this was the first time she’d seen her former beau since the stunt he’d pulled on Friday night. She’d come so close to caving. Hell yes, she still wanted him. If her pride hadn’t reared up and bit him, she might have dragged his Wrangler-clad bottom into the house and up the stairs.
But she’d shave her head before ever admitting so. And Lorelei was highly attached to her hair. It was one of the few good things her mother had passed on to her.
“I haven’t decided if I’m talking to you yet,” she said, smacking a cookie out of his hand. “I know I’m in no mood to feed you.”
“Aw, come on, Lorelei. You can’t stay mad at me.” He reached for another cookie and, this time, was faster than she was. “You never could.”
“I’m older and more bitter now. You’d be surprised what I can do.”
The cookie paused halfway to his lips. “Now don’t be teasing me like that. You’re putting all sorts of ideas in my head.”
She should have known she wouldn’t win. Spencer had always been able to tease her out of a snit. “Just keep your sticky fingers off my cookies.”
Spencer snatched an inedible-looking one, stuck it in his mouth, then said, “Okay,” around the treat.
Lorelei rolled her eyes. She didn’t really care if he ate the dang things. They were headed for the trash anyway. But that didn’t stop her from flashing him a dirty look. He grinned as the timer on the oven went off.
“Oh, please let these ones be right,” Lorelei said to herself and whatever higher cooking power might be listening. The scent of gingerfilled the kitchen as she opened
“I’ve missed you, too, Lorelei,” he said before leaning in, turning his head left, then right, leaving nothing but a breath between them. He wanted her to come to him, and she did.
With a hard bite to his bottom lip.
“What’d you do that for?” Spencer asked, drawing back with his hand on his lip. He checked his fingertips to see if she’d drawn blood.
“You should have backed off when I told you to,” she said, trying to look confident but her eyes gave her away. She may have won this battle, but the war still raged inside her.
Spencer would let her have the victory. Tonight.
“A simple push on my chest would have done the trick.”
A car came up the drive, drawing their attention. The pair watched as Rosie pulled her sedan along the left side of the house.
“This isn’t over,” Spencer said, backing away.
“Is that a threat?” Lorelei asked.
Turning at the bottom of the stairs, he tipped his cowboy hat. “No, ma’am. That’s a promise.”
Chapter 9
Lorelei measured out the flour three times before she was satisfied it was right. She’d burned the first batch of oatmeal cookies, and somehow messed up the measurements on the chocolate chip ones, because they were tasteless when they came out of the oven. As much as she wanted to cry, Lorelei refused to give up. She sent up a rare prayer of thanks that Granny was still at church, because if she were home, she’d be soothing Lorelei and nudging her out of the way to take over.
But this was not Granny’s responsibility. Lorelei had convinced Snow to sell desserts that
she
had made, not Granny. Besides, if Granny made them, everyone in town would know where they came from. Which was the reason Lorelei had pulled recipes off the Internet instead of using her grandmother’s steno pad recipe books.
Anonymity was the key ingredient in these cookies.
“Something smells good in here,” Spencer said as he stepped into the house. “Is that oatmeal?”
“Burnt oatmeal,” Lorelei said, wiping her hands on the blue polka-dot apron covering her from shoulder to knee. “I mistimed the first batch.”
“Good,” he said, snatching a blackened cookie off the counter. “That means I get to eat them.”
Lorelei had remained in her room doing recipe research all day on Saturday—some might have called it hiding, but whatever—so this was the first time she’d seen her former beau since the stunt he’d pulled on Friday night. She’d come so close to caving. Hell yes, she still wanted him. If her pride hadn’t reared up and bit him, she might have dragged his Wrangler-clad bottom into the house and up the stairs.
But she’d shave her head before ever admitting so. And Lorelei was highly attached to her hair. It was one of the few good things her mother had passed on to her.
“I haven’t decided if I’m talking to you yet,” she said, smacking a cookie out of his hand. “I know I’m in no mood to feed you.”
“Aw, come on, Lorelei. You can’t stay mad at me.” He reached for another cookie and, this time, was faster than she was. “You never could.”
“I’m older and more bitter now. You’d be surprised what I can do.”
The cookie paused halfway to his lips. “Now don’t be teasing me like that. You’re putting all sorts of ideas in my head.”
She should have known she wouldn’t win. Spencer had always been able to tease her out of a snit. “Just keep your sticky fingers off my cookies.”
Spencer snatched an inedible-looking one, stuck it in his mouth, then said, “Okay,” around the treat.
Lorelei rolled her eyes. She didn’t really care if he ate the dang things. They were headed for the trash anyway. But that didn’t stop her from flashing him a dirty look. He grinned as the timer on the oven went off.
“Oh, please let these ones be right,” Lorelei said to herself and whatever higher cooking power might be listening. The scent of gingerfilled the kitchen as she opened
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