Hitched (Promise Harbor Wedding) - By Erin Nicholas Page 0,23
just like Gavin.
She wished he was here. The thought hit her as she stepped off the bottom step and looked around. She was lost. Not just in this house but in general. She didn’t know her way to or around town—she couldn’t even remember the name of the town at the moment. She certainly couldn’t find it on a map.
She was standing in the middle of a place she couldn’t even find on a map.
Allie made herself breathe and grabbed the banister.
She really wished Gavin was here.
When he was with her, this made sense somehow. She wanted this, wanted him, and when he was in front of her, walking away from everything else she knew and loved didn’t seem crazy.
But at the moment, things definitely seemed crazy. And scary. And like going back to bed was a really good idea.
Allie turned back toward the stairs and even lifted her foot, but she glanced out the window again before she could step up.
In bed she couldn’t see that.
It was gorgeous and vast and wild and…different. It seemed surreal, like something in a movie, retouched to make the colors brighter and everything bigger. The land was covered in trees, and it seemed to stretch forever. The mountains in the distance could have been in a painting. It was almost impossible for her to grasp that it was all real. It was so different from what she was used to. And it was beautiful. Though that didn’t seem like an adequate word.
Okay. She could do this.
She turned to the room and looked around again. The kitchen couldn’t be too far away.
Across the room, a large, arched doorway led to a room with ceramic tile visible from Allie’s vantage point. A moment later she stepped into a gigantic modern kitchen. Everything shone in the morning sun that swept in through windows almost as large as the living room’s, and there wasn’t a crumb to be found.
She didn’t remember Gavin being so neat. She appreciated that trait immensely. She’d cleaned up after enough men to last her a lifetime. She wondered if her brothers would think to buy Dad’s favorite cereal when they finally had to go to the store because the peanut butter jar didn’t magically refill itself. Then she stubbornly pushed those thoughts away. She couldn’t do a thing about that from here, and her dad certainly knew his way to the grocery store if he needed something. What he’d get once he was there was anyone’s guess, but she couldn’t do anything about that from here either. Frozen pizza wouldn’t kill him. Thank god he was working for Sophie at the Brewsters’ landscaping business. He’d gone to work for the Brewsters after his accident, and having Sophie and Josh look out for him during work hours gave Allie a lot of relief. But there were twenty-four hours in a day.
Allie glanced toward the living room and the staircase to the bedroom. She could quickly text one of her brothers. Or call her dad. Or see if Mrs. Paulsen could take a casserole over.
Dammit.
She gripped the counter, closed her eyes and counted to ten. For god’s sake. She didn’t need to do any of those things.
She needed to do something here. For a change she was going to cook for a man who didn’t need her to, for a man who could fend for himself very nicely. Doing something for someone because she wanted to do it instead of because she had to do it would be a welcome relief.
Newly determined, Allie started opening cupboards, inventorying the pots and pans and utensils as well as the food.
As she went, she decided to pull things out and rearrange to put things in a more logical place for use. Gavin probably didn’t think about this stuff—and she was willing to bet he’d never used his crepe pan—but if she was going to be staying for a while, it made sense to make the kitchen as user-friendly as possible.
She was just fitting the beater into the mixer for the snickerdoodles she’d decided to make when she heard, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She swung around to find Lydia staring at her from the doorway that led down another hallway she hadn’t investigated yet.
“I’m making Gavin cookies.” Allie pushed the beaters into place and plugged the mixer in.
“No you’re not.”
Allie looked at the flour, sugar, eggs and butter sitting on the countertop. “Uh, yes I am.”