Page 16 of The Huckleberry Bookshop

He froze. The joke. That stupid kid’s joke about broccoli and boogers she’d told the group of players the day they’d met. It was the same one that used to have his sister, Evonne, in stitches of laughter.

Athena was going to tell the joke. In front of the camera.

He gripped the edge of the counter, promising himself that this time he’d hold it together. Not shut down or lash out at her.

Realizing his left hand had lifted to touch his family tree tattoo, including the small bird that was half angel flying above his collar, he sucked in an unsteady breath.

“Don’t say it,” he groaned, trying to make his pained tone sound like it was all about the stupid joke.

Athena turned to the camera, all brightness and sunshine. “What’s the difference between boogers and broccoli?”

“That’s it. I’m taking off my jersey.” He did not need to hear that kids ate boogers, and hence, not broccoli. Not today. Not right now. Mullens started pulling off his shirt, taking his base-layer tee with it.

“Jersey on!” Nuvella snapped.

“Keep your clothes on,” Athena muttered, her cheeks pink, her gaze locked on his exposed midriff. “This isn’t that kind of video.”

With false seriousness he pulled out his phone again as though he needed to make a call. “Then there’s been a mistake. I have to talk to my agent.”

Athena snorted and dropped a hand on her hip. “When you’re ready, we’re going to make an egg-white omelet.”

“Speak to the camera,” the man by the tripod commanded.

She sighed and turned back to the waiting camera.

“Oh, hey. What’s your name again?” Mullens asked him. He reached across the counter, hand extended.

“Howell. Address the camera. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Hard to do that when he’s snapping at us,” Mullens muttered to Athena as he straightened again. She rewarded him with a brief smile.

“To reduce cholesterol, we’re going to make our omelet using egg whites.” She began cracking eggs, that small smile playing at the corner of her lips. She deftly dropped the yolk from one half of the open shell into the other, letting the whites drain into the bowl below.

“We’ll be editing the video, so don’t worry about any lags or pauses,” Howell said.

Beside Mullens, Athena tensed again.

Mullens wanted to shove the guy in a locker to shut him up, but there didn’t seem to be one in the kitchen.

“Think he’d fit under the sink?” he whispered to Athena.

“We’d have to turn our backs to the camera,” she muttered. Her eyes danced and the corners of her lips slipped upward before she caught herself.

“What do you do with the yolks?” Mullens asked. Each morning when he had his omelet he felt guilty tossing them out, to the point that some days he folded them back in again.

“Toss them.”

“Seems wasteful.”

“If you’re baking, some recipes call for just yolks. You can plan ahead so you don’t waste either of them.”

Yolks probably meant a dessert. Something rich. What would be this woman’s weakness?

“That probably outweighs the benefits of having an egg-white omelet for breakfast,” he said.

“It does,” she admitted.

Their eyes met and her smile turned slightly devilish.

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