Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,19

anyway.

She didn't use what she’d done to push for more. She didn't ask for favors or try to take advantage. Daisy had done what she thought was right, had put herself in danger, and hadn't even pressed her advantage.

To say she was a change of pace was a vast understatement.

But it wasn't just that. It was her wide smile and the light in her brown eyes. Her round curves, her energy, her soft cherry-cola curls, and the sound of her laugh.

I was trying to play this slow. To give her space. I wanted her, but I didn't want to stalk her. It was a fine but distinct difference.

I unwrapped the brownie as I walked to my car, Daisy firmly rooted in my mind. It occurred to me that Hope would be working with Griffen and me this afternoon.

Hope, Griffen's new wife, was also Daisy's best friend. If anybody could give me the inside scoop on the supposed boyfriend, it was Hope.

Before I left for Heartstone, I had a stop to make. I didn’t have time to see Daisy, but fuck it. For Daisy, I’d make time.

With a new spring in my step and the taste of rich chocolate filling my mouth, I turned back to The Inn. The chocolate had given me an idea.

Food was Daisy's thing, and I had the best kitchen in town at my disposal. I had a feeling I'd need every one of my advantages to win Daisy over.

Good thing I had a lot of them.

Chapter Eight

Daisy

Carefully, so carefully, I carried the tray with the wedding cake to the cooler in the back of the kitchen. Ready with a day to spare, the cake would feed a hundred guests at a garden wedding the next day.

All in white, embellished with delicate violets and green vines, it was gorgeous, if I did say so myself. I made sure the cake was settled neatly in place and closed the heavy door to the cooler, turning to evaluate the kitchen and figure out what to do next.

My mother had run back into the kitchen and slapped a note on the desk while I was working on the candied violets.

Low on toffee-chip cookies, orange-cranberry muffins, pie—all of them!—and chocolate cake.

Looks like I had my afternoon cut out for me.

I already had more toffee-chip cookies ready to go. Ditto on the chocolate cake. I hadn’t expected the run on orange-cranberry muffins or pie. Everyone in town must be in the mood for pie. Checking the clock, I saw it was past time for lunch. No wonder my stomach was growling.

I thought of the leftover casserole in my fridge upstairs. Not appealing. Still, a girl had to eat. When she was pinching every penny, a girl had to respect leftovers.

A quick double-knock fell on the back door to the kitchen. I was moving to open it when the handle turned. Royal stood there, a paper bag in his hand. He held it aloft and said in greeting, “Pastrami on rye? The Inn kitchen had fresh-cooked kettle chips.”

I didn't quite snatch the bag from his hand. Not exactly.

I could smell the pastrami, salty and rich. Calories. Yum.

As usual, I'd started my day on a cup of coffee, planning to eat breakfast, and had somehow never made it there. My feet hurt, my hair was an explosion of frizz, and I was pretty sure my sweat had passed the glowing stage. Royal just smiled at me, his eyes tracking past me to where the bouquet he'd sent crowded my small desk.

“Did you like the flowers?”

I raised my head from peeking in the bag and glanced over my shoulder at the flowers. “They're beautiful. I've been debating the appropriate way to say thank you.”

Royal's eyes skimmed me from head to toe, slowly, deliberately, heat blooming in their wake. Oh, I knew what he was thinking. That way lie danger. For me, not for him. I shook my head in a negative, trying to hide the smile that wanted to curve my mouth.

I expected him to say something suggestive. Proposition me or ask me out again. Instead, he gave me an easy smile. “I'm sure you'll think of something. In case you were wondering, your brownies aside, I'm partial to pie.”

“What kind?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Oh, pretty much all of them.”

“But what’s your favorite? Just asking out of curiosity.”

“Anything with berries.”

“Good to know,” I said and stood there like a dork holding the sandwich bag and staring at him. He was just