Here Comes Trouble Page 0,21
of the doubt?”
“No, of course not.” She immediately smoothed her expression and he almost felt bad for making her feel self-conscious. “I’m sorry. And thank you for the kind offer. But I can—”
“Handle it. Why is it,” he said, as he gestured for her to proceed him into the dining room, “that I think you say that a lot?”
“I don’t know that I say it, but it is true. I’m a pretty capable person, despite the damsel in distress act earlier.”
“I don’t doubt that. And accidents can happen to anyone. That you climbed up there at all either spoke of great confidence or—”
“—gasping idiocy.”
He smiled as he took the seat across from her and spread the linen napkin on his plate across his lap. “I hardly think that would ever describe you.”
“You’d be wrong, but I appreciate the gentlemanly response. Especially given you have actual proof to the contrary.”
“Like I keep saying, accidents happen.”
She took the lid off the serving dish. “Chicken and mushroom over rice. Salad, too. The dressing is there,” she said, motioning to the small tureen. “It’s Italian. I hope that’s okay. Biscuits in the basket there.”
“More than okay. Smells incredible.”
“Sorry about the pot roast.”
“I can’t tell you the last time I had home-cooked anything. I’m more than grateful.”
Her smile was a bit self-deprecating as she served herself salad. “Well, I did use the stove, but it’s hardly cooking. Pour a can of mushroom soup over a few breasts of chicken. Make instant rice. Crack open a tube of biscuits. Not exactly going to give Rachel Ray a run anytime soon.”
He smiled as he filled his plate. “Don’t knock yourself. My specialty is ordering room service or takeout. Left on my own, I’d be surviving on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Captain Crunch. This is five-star for me.”
Kirby lifted a quizzical brow and looked like she wanted to ask some questions, but continued to munch her salad instead. He’d have answered anything she asked him, but he had to admit he kind of liked that she had absolutely no idea who he was, and therefore was willing to take him strictly at face value. Her curiosity would get the better of her eventually, and then things would go in whatever direction they did. Probably not all that differently here in Vermont than back in Vegas. Money and fame tended to affect people the same no matter where they hailed from, he’d discovered.
It didn’t occur to him until he was on his second serving of chicken that he’d naturally assumed he’d be sticking around long enough for her to find out anything at all.
“So,” he said as he cracked open another biscuit. His third. “Is this the first place you’ve owned?”
“That obvious?” she said on a laugh. She was working on another biscuit herself.
He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat in front of a man. Not that this was a date, or that she was remotely concerned about his opinion of her eating habits…but he’d spent most of his life surrounded by women for whom eating was an elaborate science of carb totals and protein gram calculations that would give even the most anal retentive scientist a migraine, all while making sure nothing that contained actual fat ever crossed their lips. He swallowed a smile as he watched her slather on the butter, thinking how hated she would be in his hometown if she regularly ate chicken and biscuits and still looked like she did.
“No, it’s not obvious,” he said. “You have a really nice place here. All of it, inside and out. I just…when I was signing in. I noticed…” he trailed off, not wanting to insult her or make her feel bad. Quite rude given he was enjoying a meal prepared by her. “I’m sorry, none of my business.”
“That’s okay; it’s a fair question. This is my first and only establishment. A culmination of a lot of hard work, a long ago dream…and quite possibly a large portion of that gasping idiocy I mentioned earlier.”
“I’d call it flying in the face of fear.”
“Terror, yes. Lots of that.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a requirement. You’re only afraid because it matters if you fail. And so that’s a good thing.”
She paused for a second, as if considering that. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, and polished off the rest of her biscuit. “I wouldn’t mind if the fear took a break. At least on alternate weeks.”
He gave a short laugh. Then he reached over