Cole cut through four asparagus spears. “I can respect that.”
“Are you comparing me to Tom Brady?”
He glanced at her, smirked, then looked away, moving around the kitchen like he knew what he was doing. She sat at the island, watching, finding this dance he did in front of her surprisingly relaxing. And hot. She couldn’t deny it. Watching a solid, athletic, masculine man like Cole cook a dinner that was clearly designed for her—well, it did something to her on the inside.
She told herself to knock it off. Told herself Cole was not her type. Told herself she didn’t even like the man.
So why did she find it impossible to stop looking at him?
Unlike most people, Cole seemed to only speak when he had a reason to. He didn’t fill the space with chatter, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with the same silence that had her insides twisting in a knot.
She resisted the urge to ask him why he’d come in the first place, assuming at some point he’d tell her.
“Where are the plates?” he asked, pulling her from her unwanted thoughts.
She started to stand, but he quickly interrupted.
“Just point me in the right direction,” he said kindly. “I’ll get them.”
She sat back down and pointed in the direction of a cabinet to the left of the sink. Who was this man? He was wholly different than the Cole she’d grown to expect.
He pulled out two plates, and that’s when she realized they were about to have a meal together. Of course they were about to have a meal together—what did she think—he was making the food just for her?
He’d said he hadn’t eaten. He was making dinner for two.
The thought of sitting across from him while they ate in awkward silence turned her palms cold and sweaty.
He plated the food, set the pans down, and took a step back.
“What’s it called?” she asked.
“Chicken Scaloppine with sugar snap peas, asparagus, and lemon salad.”
She frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“It just doesn’t seem like something you’d eat,” she said.
“Well, I made it for you.” His face turned serious.
His words had an unexpected effect on her heart—one she wasn’t prepared for. He had made it for her, she’d known this. But learning that he tailored what he made to what he thought she would like stirred something in her bones.
And that might’ve been the moment she knew that spending time with Cole Turner was dangerous. For her heart. If this kept up, the cranky football coach was likely to win her over.
Why did that make her nervous? Now that she had the time and was trying to change her life, should she at least consider romance?
What a ridiculous thought. Cole Turner was about as romantic as a lint roller. She had nothing in common with this man. And there was nothing appealing about him, aside from the way he looked. And the way he smelled. And, okay, the way he’d played football with those kids at Haven House. And the way he’d agreed to help Steve fix the fence. And his obvious concern for Asher and his nieces and nephew.
Darn it. There were a lot of appealing things about him.
But—she was quick to remind herself—he was not kind or polite. She’d be smart to remember all the ways he’d made her feel stupid or small.
A broad chest and piercing eyes didn’t change that.
“Thanks,” she said. He picked up the plates and walked toward the table.
Charlotte grabbed silverware and napkins and took them to the table, where he was now sitting in a chair across from the one she was supposed to sit in.
Charlotte had never been on a proper date. Or any kind of date, come to think of it. She was the epitome of inexperienced.
But she did watch a lot of movies, and this whole setup felt a lot like a date. The very thought of it unnerved her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She sat. “Confused, I think.”
“Why?”
She unfolded the napkin and laid it on her lap.
“I can’t figure you out,” she said. “To be honest, I thought I annoyed you.”
He picked up the salt and generously shook it onto his food before even tasting it. “You don’t.”
She watched as he cut into his chicken and took a bite, finally meeting her eyes. When she realized he wasn’t going to elaborate, she turned her attention to the plate he’d created for her. It not only smelled good, it looked beautiful. Maybe Cole had missed his calling as a chef.