Page 17 of The Huckleberry Bookshop

Who was this woman?

“Ms. Gavras!” He placed his palms flat on the counter and gaped at her, pretending to be shocked. “You sneak brownies, don’t you? Brownies rich in egg yolks!”

Her cheeks turned pink. “How do you know they’re brownies?”

“Busted!” He turned to the camera and pressed his hands to his cheeks, unable to fully process the new truth, that Ms. Rules was, in fact, Ms. Rule-breaker.

Darned if his crush on her didn’t just expand even further. All she needed was a pair of large-framed glasses balanced on her cute little nose and he’d be a complete goner.

“I’m not the pro athlete here.” She pointed the shiny blade of a knife at him. “I can have brownies.”

“I thought you were our role model.”

“I’m not?”

He waited for the smirk. No smirk. Dang.

“Wait.” He frowned at her, feeling as though he might have the beginning of a valid argument. “You told the team it’s about moderation. Not denial.”

She rolled her eyes and said drily, “Like you know anything about moderation.”

He dropped an elbow onto the counter and leaned in, lowering his voice. “When it comes to something good… I don’t believe in denial. Or moderation.”

Athena deadpanned, “I’m confused. Are we talking about women or cars now?”

“We’ll cut that.” Howell said flatly. “Off brand.”

“No, it’s fun,” Nuvella said. “Interesting.”

Mullens tried to contain his laughter. Finally, he gave up, tipped his head back and let it out. Athena, warmed up by the joking or maybe the stolen swigs of wine, simply rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip to stop what he was certain could have been a shared, slightly wicked smile.

Athena pushed a knife across the small space between them. “Can you chop the mushrooms, please?”

Mullens set to work, noting that she had stopped moving and was watching, her hands poised as if she wanted to jump in and take over.

Catching herself, she started whisking the egg whites.

“Howell? What do you think about Athena seeing a stylist?” Nuvella asked, her tone thoughtful. “The sweater is a pleasant color, but I’m thinking something sexier to really pull in the male viewers.”

“She has nice curves,” Howell agreed.

“That’s sexual harassment,” Mullens growled. “And she’s already plenty sexy.”

Athena’s arm jerked, flicking the whisk and sending strings of egg whites onto the counter.

“Her publisher suggested something less bookish?” Howell said delicately, pressing a finger to his chin.

Athena touched her shiny locks and glanced down at her outfit. “What’s so bookish about this?”

“Bookish is her brand,” Mullens stated firmly. “She’s written a bestselling cookbook. You’re standing in… Is this your place?” he asked Athena. She nodded. “You’re standing in her soon-to-be bookstore. Bookish is her brand. And she’s smart. Ask her anything about food.”

Howell protested, “I just want this to be—”

“Ask her.”

The man sighed and waved a hand. “Fine. Carry on.”

Mullens glared at him for an extra beat, then asked Athena, “Do you need to wash mushrooms?”

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