The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,24

the kitchen. She darted another look his way.

He lifted an eyebrow. “So, how are you doing in here? Everything going okay?”

She knew he was teasing. She obviously wasn’t doing very well at all. Bowls and ingredients littered every surface. A dusting of flour coated the floor. Actually, she felt like she was covered with flour from head to toe. Making cinnamon rolls from scratch was not for the fainthearted!

And though Frannie enjoyed baking, it was becoming very apparent to Beth that she did not enjoy it. At all. Not that Mr. Blue Eyes needed to know that. “I am doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“You don’t look fine,” he murmured. “You look like you’re in a competition to see how much flour you can wear.”

“I am in no such thing.”

“I’m just teasing, Beth. You know, if you try to clean your area every so often, the mess is more manageable.”

“Thank you for the tip,” she said sarcastically. She was about to ask him what he needed when, to her surprise, he took his sweatshirt off and tossed it on a nearby chair. Then, just as if he hadn’t taken off part of his clothes in Frannie’s kitchen, he turned to the sink and turned on the faucet.

Now clad in nothing but another light blue T-shirt that made his chest and arms seem even more muscular, he grabbed a plate.

Embarrassed about her staring, and embarrassed about the mess, she snapped at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He paused. “This is called washing dishes. I know you may be unfamiliar with that task, but it involves turning on the water, washing things with soap, rinsing them, drying them with a clean dishtowel”—he stopped, raised an eyebrow—“and then putting them away.” With a wink, he added, “If you are good, I’ll give you some tips.”

So, he could give as good as he got! For some reason, that made her thaw a little bit. “I know how to wash dishes. It may not look like it, but I do. I meant, why are you helping me?”

“Because it looks like you need it. You do, don’t you? Or is someone stopping by to clean everything up?”

There was no one. No way was she going to ask either her mother or her sisters to help her at Frannie’s. Oh, they wouldn’t mind. They’d scurry over in a heartbeat, for sure. But they’d also have a jolly good time teasing her about her messy kitchen and her lack of baking skills.

She’d never live it down.

As she looked at Mr. Blue Eyes, and saw that his willingness to help was genuine, she came to a decision. There was pride, and then there was being smart enough to know when a kitchen had her beat.

And this kitchen had gotten the best of her from the first moment she’d stepped inside it. “I do not have anyone coming to help. And . . . and, I’d be much obliged if you would lend me a hand.”

“Was that so hard?” He turned back on the water and grabbed the bottle of dish soap from under the sink. With a few squirts, the sink began to fill with hot, soapy water.

“Yes.”

He smiled as he swished around the water with one hand, making the suds multiply.

“Oh! Wait a sec, would you . . . ?”

“What is wrong now?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He turned to her as he turned off the faucet. “And why does that bother you?”

Was he really still not going to tell her his name? With a little vinegar in her voice, she replied, “For your information, I only let people I know on a first-name basis clean up after me.”

Their eyes met. He slowly smiled, turning an already attractive face into something truly handsome. “My name is Chris.”

It suited him. “Chris is a nice name.” Of course, the moment she said the words, she wished she could take them back. Were any names not “nice”?

His smile deepened. “Thanks. I’m kind of partial to it.” Then, like there was no need for further conversation, he turned again and plunged a bowl into the soapy water.

Beth watched him for a moment. Tried to imagine her brothers washing the dishes without a whole lot of prodding, but couldn’t do it. Her brothers never would have done something so thoughtful without a good reason.

As he continued to scrub, she turned her focus back to the task at hand: kneading dough. Moments later, she rolled it out for the cinnamon rolls. When