Page 75 of Make Her Mine

I mean, I’ve never had that chicken before, but it’s now one of my favorite dishes. I also enjoyed the prep and cooking stages. I’d perched on one of the kitchen stools, sipping iced tea and watching him cook as we chatted.

I didn’t know a guy who can cook would be so sexy.

But it is.

And I’m telling myself it’s all men who cook and not just Jefferson.

That should annoy me. Two days ago, it would have. Now it just makes me smile.

I can have his strawberry jalapeño chicken whenever I want.

Then I frown.

I can have it whenever I want for the rest of this week.

I sigh.

How did I suddenly just forget this is not only fake but it’s also got a timeline? A short one at that?

“You have to tell us everything!”

I’m accosted by Mia, Ginny, Margot, and Sasha the second I set foot on the grass of the town square. They’ve clearly been lying in wait.

“What are you talking about?” I ask as they surround me and literally start herding me across the square.

Margot hands me a frozen lemonade, and Sasha presses a corndog into my other hand.

I hand the corndog back. “Thanks, but I already ate lunch.”

“What?” Mia asks. “You did? Even knowing you were coming down here to festival food?”

Yes, that does sound suspicious. I love all festival food. Put something on a stick and deep fry it and I’ll eat it.

Except Brussels sprouts.

“Uh.” I eye the corndog. Could I fit it into my stomach? But my stomach immediately rejects the idea. “We had lunch before Jefferson came down here to…”

I trail off, wincing as I realize what I just said and take in the looks on my friends’ faces.

That ‘we’ came out really easy.

“Uh huh,” Margot says with a smile. “You and Jefferson had lunch together. At his house? Because you weren’t at your house.”

“And I didn’t see you at the diner,” Sasha adds.

“None of us have seen you at all since last night,” Ginny says, grinning.

I frown. “It’s not like I haven’t left his house at all. I was at my house this morning. And I was out at Delaney and Tucker’s.”

“We heard. You now have three cats. I assume those are at Jefferson’s, too?” Ginny asks. “Because Sloan is allergic.”

“Sasha is too.”

Sasha shrugs. “A little.”

“And you hate having dog hair on your clothes,” I say to Margot. “I assume the same would apply to cat hair.”

She looks at me with clear amusement. “And now you have a boyfriend who will let you have cats. That’s really sweet.”

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