with a tray of cookies in hand. The oven door thumped closed behind her, closed by her foot I figured, as her hands were full.
She smiled when she saw me looking at her. “How’s it going?”
“I just wrote three chapters.”
Her mouth popped open. “You’re kidding. I mean, you looked like you were in the zone but…three chapters?”
“Uh-huh,” I answered, smirking.
Amelia had set the cookie sheet down and clapped, the sound muffled by her oven mitts. “You did it! Send it to my Kindle.”
Fear snaked through my guts, but I turned back to my laptop and did it anyway.
Maybe it wasn’t any good. She’d probably hate it. I had no idea what she’d think, but chances were, it was a bust.
I closed my laptop with a snick and set it on the coffee table like it was covered in anthrax. When I stood, my knees popped, and my back screamed when it straightened after slouching on the couch for hours.
My smile found its way back onto my face. It had been years since I’d gotten so lost in what I was writing. I lifted my arms, clasping them over my head in a stretch as I walked into the kitchen. The island was covered in baked goods—cranberry muffins, two loaves of pumpkin bread, and a tray of cookies. Amelia had been transferring what looked to be the last batch onto a cooling sheet.
I say had been because she’d stopped midair, cookie resting on a metal spatula and her eyes locked on the sliver of bare skin over the waistband of my jeans, exposed by my arching back.
Not gonna lie. That was almost better than my word count.
She shook her head as if to clear it and brought the waiting cookie to the rack. Her eyes were glued to her hands. I decided not to tease her about the color of her cheeks, which was somewhere between the peach towel draped over her shoulder to the cranberries in those muffins.
“Well, you’ve been busy,” I said, reaching for a muffin. “Where the hell did you find all of this?”
“In your pantry. Flour, sugar, baking soda, and powder. Chocolate chips, a can of pumpkin mix, a bag of dried cranberries. Didn’t you know it was there?”
“No idea,” I said, unwrapping the muffin, salivating furiously.
Her face quirked as she gave me a look. “Do you not grocery shop?”
“Nope. Theo has groceries delivered every week. I don’t even put them away.” I took a bite, and an unbidden groan climbed up my throat and surrounded the morsel of muffin. The tang of cranberry and orange filled my mouth. “Humuguh, Melia,” I mumbled around the bite, opening my mouth to shove more in. “Disha ’mazing.”
She smiled, lips together and eyes shining with pride. “Thanks. I used to make these with my mom. Though, honestly, it’s so much easier not having to use her mixer.”
I swallowed. “Why? Was it old?” I asked before stuffing what was left of the muffin in my gaping maw before reaching for another.
“No, it was one of her inventions, and it never worked right. If the motor didn’t burn out, the beaters would clank and groan and ruin the dough. I’d rather use a spoon, but she never got it. ‘Why use your own energy when a machine could do it for you?’”
I huffed a laugh and took a bite. “Pretty sure that’s the opening line to at least four Asimov novels.”
She giggled and walked the cookie sheet to the sink. Everything she’d used—other than that and the spatula—was neatly lined up and upside down on a drying mat that I also hadn’t known I owned. “So, tell me about your story.”
“Nope. You’re gonna have to read it for yourself and find out.” I polished off the muffin, sucking the crumbs off my thumb.
“Ooh, going in blind. I like that,” she said as she washed.
I crumpled up my wrappers, debating on a third muffin. But somehow, I rediscovered my willpower and tossed the wrappers in the trash.
The kitchen was so clean, especially considering all she’d baked while I was in the vortex, that the crumbs I’d shed while mannerlessly eating her muffins stood out like the clumsy mess it was. I scraped them off the quartz with the meat of my hand, cupping them gingerly as I made my way to the trash can and dusted them in.
“Feeling calmer?” I asked, leaning against the counter next to her, watching her dry the pan.
“Much. But I decided you were right.”
My smile tilted. “Oh? I