Page 26 of The Fine Art of Faking It
She pulled on a cardigan over her sleep tank and shorts and padded barefoot into the hallway, past Davis’s door. The inn was dark and quiet at this time of night and she sent up good vibes for a sound night’s sleep for its inhabitants. Her guests’ experience was paramount. White noise machines, luxurious linens, aromatherapy oils. Everything in each room was designed to soothe and comfort. Aunt Nell, her father’s sister and owner of this fine old home, refused to turn over the keys to the inn until she was satisfied with each and every one of Eden’s improvements.
Aunt Nell remained a silent partner in the property but had promptly fled to Arizona once the responsibility had been officially transferred to Eden. She still kept Aunt Nell up to date with financial statements, occupancy stats, and written proposals on all major decisions. But her aunt trusted Eden to not bankrupt them both and stayed out of it all.
Eden tiptoed through the lobby and cut down the back hallway that led to the kitchen. She flipped the light switches and gave a hefty sigh. Dirty dishes sat in heaps on both sides of her farmhouse sink. Both dishwashers were full of—clean—dishes that needed to be put away. She was off her game. And that she could blame entirely on Davis Gates.
With the resignation of someone who should have sucked it up, done all their work earlier, and now be dreaming of Channing Tatum, Eden picked up the mixing bowl crusted with dried batter.
She worked methodically if not enthusiastically, unloading one dishwasher and then the next before tackling the first stack of dirty dishes. A shadow fell over the counter next to her and she whirled around, tea towel at the ready.
Eden smothered a strangled scream. But the intruder held up his hands and she spotted the familiar bulge in those also familiar yoga pants.
“Davis! You scared the hell out of me!” His hair was mussed and he had pillow marks on one side of his face. The sleepy-eyed sexy looksoworked for him.
“Sorry. I thought you heard me come in.”
“And completely ignored you?”
“Well. Yeah.” He shrugged, testing the limits on that ladies’ V-neck tee.
Fair point. “What are you doing up at,” she paused to glance at her watch. “1:30 in the morning?”
He looked a little embarrassed and not just because he was rocking her yoga pants and t-shirt as pajamas. “I missed dinner tonight, worked through it. I thought I could power through until morning.” His stomach let out a long, low rumble. “I was wrong.”
Eden turned away from the delectably sleepy sex god and started loading teacups and coffee mugs into the dishwasher. “There’s always snacks available in the library.”
“I wasn’t aware.”
She felt his gaze travel up from her ankles, her skin warming under his perusal.
She hadn’t told him about the snacks. Hell, she hadn’t even shown him the library. She hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to make him feel unwelcome, but she certainly hadn’t offered him the full guest experience. That was bad business karma. Just because the man had dented her heart a hundred years ago was no excuse to treat him poorly.
Aunt Nell would not approve the bad vibes. Even if Davis was “a real stinker.”
“We’re having pancakes for breakfast in the morning. I could make you some eggs to tide you over,” she offered.
“Please. Don’t go to any trouble,” Davis insisted. “I can find the library and raid the snacks.”
“You’re a guest under my roof. The least I can do is make sure you don’t starve to death. Your skeletal remains would scare off new visitors.”
Eden pulled out a gleaming frying pan from the rollout drawer and placed it on the stove.
Davis eyed the eggs and cheese she stacked on the counter. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
If he were a regular guest, it wouldn’t be any trouble. “I don’t mind,” she said lightly.See? She could be nice!
“Then the least I can do is the dishes.” Davis stepped up to the sink, into her personal space and she was suddenly transported back to her hormonal junior year where his mere presence had her body lighting up. She backed up a pace and rapped her elbow on the stainless-steel island.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked with a slow smile.
She snatched a cheery yellow bowl out from under the island and cracked an egg with a little extra force. “You infuriate me. You don’t make me nervous.”
“I infuriate you and you’re making me eggs,” Davis pointed out as she continued to crack eggs into the bowl.
“You’re a guest.” She whipped the egg mixture with violent efficiency. “And as such, you’re entitled to certain amenities, services.
“Hmm.” Davis’s eyebrows winged up his forehead.
The flirtatious sound of his monosyllable set Eden’s teeth on edge… and her blood warming. “Are you flirting with me?”
