Page 42 of One Sweet Match Up

No. There was nothing normal about what was going on. He’d meant what he’d said back at Sheila’s. Whatever was happening wasn’t only happening to Zoe. For whatever reason, Mary seemed to have an interest in him, too.

He turned and opened the refrigerator. They could dissect all recent events later. Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was make Zoe a dinner she’d love. He surveyed the refrigerator contents.

Maybe he couldn’t give her an explanation when it came to Mary’s interest in them, but he could cook her a meal that would take Zoe’s mind off things for a couple of hours.

He shut the refrigerator door. But first he needed to know what she was in the mood to eat. “So, what would you like?”

Zoe ran her fingers through her hair, causing his insides to stir. “I don’t know.” She smiled. “Surprise me.”

That he could do with both eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back, but he’d rather make her something that she loved. “How about something you haven’t had in a while?”

“Well”—she took another sip of her wine—“you know what I haven’t had in ages, but for some reason I’m craving?”

“What’s that?” he asked. He turned his back to her as he rummaged around a lower cabinet for his favorite frying pan. His sister had an awful habit of throwing his pans in there and not hanging them like he’d requested.

“I really could go for an omelette.”

He froze. Holy crap! Was it a coincidence that he’d found two eggs in the purse this morning?

Whatever you do, don’t show her your surprise. It’s only a coincidence. Doesn’t mean anything.

Coincidence or not, the last thing he wanted to do was chase Zoe down another snowy hill.

He relaxed his shoulders and stood, flashing her a wide smile. “Well, you happen to be in luck. Breakfast food for two is my specialty.” Her eyebrow shot up, and he quickly added, “I like to cook Sunday breakfast for me and Rachel.”

“Right,” she said flatly.

Okay. He’d admit it. He stepped right into that one, but it had been a long time since he’d made a woman breakfast. Right now, he was happy to make it for Zoe. So what if it was seven o’clock at night and they were fully clothed? If it was for this woman, he’d take it.

And take his opportunity he did. He rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing the two eggs he’d found this morning in the purse. In no time, he had all the ingredients to make Zoe Mathews the mother of all breakfasts. Mushroom and goat cheese omelettes were his specialty.

“So . . .” He cracked an egg to the side of a mixing bowl, the yolk filling the bottom.Wait.He dipped a finger in the runny yolk. Should they even be eating these eggs? Who knows where the hell they came from? He thought about it for a split second and moved the bowl to the side, setting the other egg in it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I think these might have expired, but don’t you worry. I have more.” He retrieved a carton and flipped it open. The four eggs in there he was sure weren’t tampered with by a dead witch since he’d purchased the carton last week at the supermarket. He resumed his quest to make Zoe a mouthwatering breakfast complete with a scrumptious omelette, buttery toast, and hash browns.

And while he did it, he’d lighten the mood and get to know Zoe a little better. Maybe she’d want to learn a little bit about him. He’d like to show her he wasn’t a jerk.

“So,” he started, “tell me what you liked to do in the winter in Denwood.”

She blinked and didn’t say anything.

Okay. Obviously, not into winter. Maybe she was more a warm weather gal. “How about summer?”

“I like the beach. My dad and I used to make a day of it, combing the sand for seashells. We’d arrive early and were often the last to leave,” she said softly. “It’s one of my favorite memories.”

“Will you go home this summer and visit?”

“Maybe. I’d love to have him come stay with me, but he’s not much of a flyer.”

“Couldn’t he drive?” he asked. Denwood couldn’t be more than a day by car. At least he didn’t think so being in Massachusetts. He kept forgetting to Google it. He chuckled to himself as he finished cutting the mushrooms and grabbed his whisk.See, Abby, I’m forgetful. That’s far from perfect.

“What’s so funny?” Zoe asked.

“Oh nothing . . . I love the water, too. I’m excited for this summer. The lake is a total blast.” He finished whisking the eggs and slid the yolk in the frying pan, turning up the burner. “Some of my best memories are on that lake.”

“I know. Um . . . I mean about the lake being a blast. I don’t know anything about your memories.” She reached for the wine bottle and refilled her glass. “What is your favorite one?”

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