The Magnolia Sisters (Magnolia Sisters #1) - Michelle Major Page 0,24
He’d heard Avery arrive home an hour earlier, not that he’d kept the family room window cracked to listen.
She opened the door a moment later, brandishing a packaged roll of cookie dough in his direction. “I’ve got it under control,” she said by way of greeting.
He opened his mouth to tell her he had no idea what she was talking about when the scent of something charred—cookies if he had to guess—hit him.
“Are you trying to burn down my guesthouse?”
She batted her eyelashes. “Just looking for an excuse to have the hot firefighter next door come over and check out my oven.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” he told her with a laugh.
She swatted him on the shoulder with the cookie dough log. “I’d invite you in, but I’m not sure your ego could fit through the door.”
He plucked the log out of her hand. “I’ll fit,” he said, dropping his voice to a low growl, laughing again when color rose to her cheeks. “Such an easy target.”
She stuck out her tongue, then turned and walked back into the house. She didn’t shut the door in his face, which he took as a good sign, and he followed her.
“Did you seriously smell smoke?” she asked, leading the way to the small kitchen area.
Grimacing as he took in the scorched remains of a dozen cookies on a baking tray, he shook his head. “No. I stopped by to make sure your arm was okay.”
“It hurts less after a couple of margaritas.” She picked up the baking sheet and scraped the burnt cookies into the trash can next to the refrigerator. “It’s not a great idea to drink and bake,” she told him.
“I’ll remember that. Did you drive home?”
“Home,” she murmured with an almost sad laugh. “Home to my sister’s apartment in a town I didn’t even know existed a few weeks ago. I don’t have a home, Mr. Hottie Firefighter.”
“You like to call me hot.”
She pointed a finger as if accusing him of something. “It’s the truth. Despite what you might have heard, I’m not a liar.” She placed the baking tray in the sink with a clatter. “Or a drunk driver. I got a ride home. I’ll pick up my car tomorrow morning.”
“Glad to hear it. Can I see your arm?”
She studied him for a moment, and even with her gaze slightly blurry, her hair coming out of the messy knot on the back of her head and a smear of chocolate down the front of her loose-fitting sweater, she was gorgeous and still unabashedly ladylike. “You rescued me today.” She sounded bitter, which made him smile.
“You would have figured out how to get down eventually.”
She shook her head, then walked toward the small four-person table in the dinette. Plopping into a chair, she yanked the hair tie from the back of her head, blond hair tumbling over her shoulders. She flipped it away from her face, then pulled the sweater over her head, revealing a pale pink ribbed tank top underneath.
“You’re like an honest-to-God hero.”
“The way you say it makes me feel like I should apologize.”
“I’m just unaccustomed to stand-up guys.”
Gray moved closer, thoroughly intrigued by this version of Avery Keller. “How many margaritas did you have?”
“A couple,” she answered. “But I don’t usually drink. I like to be in control.”
He drew a chair next to her and lowered himself into it. “I can just imagine.”
“How’s your rug rat?” she asked as he unwound the bandage from her arm.
“Violet’s asleep.”
“Duh. I mean, how was her day? Was that bi-otch friend of hers impressed by the braids?”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to refer to little girls that way.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t. What happened? Did it go well?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Apparently she saved a seat for Violet at lunch.”
Avery groaned, and Gray stilled. “Does it hurt?”
She turned her head to look at him, her face close enough that he