Page 33 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“How do you know where I live?” I asked, pleased that the chattering had all but stopped.
His lips did that crooked-tilt thing. “This is Shadow Ridge. Someone new comes to town, everyone knows. But I had an inside scoop. My parents and the Muellers are good friends.”
The Muellers were the elderly couple who owned the estate and lived in the big manor house and were renting me the cottage.
“They are?”
He nodded.
The party, the storm, being stranded along the road—it was an alternate version of one of the worst nights of my life. But I was no longer freaking out. The panic was steadily subsiding because ofhim. That was twice he’d come to my rescue tonight.
The cottage was dark, which was odd. I usually turned the outside lights on before I left, and I had timers on several inside lamps so I never returned home to a dark house. A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky, and within seconds, thunder cracked out, loud enough that I couldfeelthe shock waves rolling through my body. The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
“Did the storm knock out electricity?” I asked.
“Might have,” he said. “It was raging pretty hard there for a while.”
Yes, I knew, but I’d lost the ability to blindly accept the most likely explanation when something was amiss. I silently called upon my guardian angel and felt nothing. No warning, no sense of impending danger.
“Want to come in for coffee?” I asked. It seemed like the least I could do.
He snorted, as if the question were ridiculous. “I’m not going anywhere until I know for certain you’re okay.”
Warmth bloomed in my center, and at that moment, I had neither the will nor the desire to fight it.
He helped me out of the truck and to the door, then went right to the fireplace and started tossing out orders over his shoulder.
“Go take a hot shower. I’ll get a fire going and make coffee. Unless you prefer tea or hot chocolate.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again when I saw his eyes narrow in warning. This commanding,don’t even think of arguing with me right nowvibe was yet another side of Steve I hadn’t seen before. While I typically eschewed bossy men, I was willing to cede control for a little while. And onhim, it was crazy hot.
“Any of those sound great, thank you.”
He grunted. I took it as a sound of approval. Despite the situation, I found myself smiling stupidly as I walked away, anxious to peel off my wet clothes and stand under hot water to chase the chill from my bones.
When I returned to the living room, I felt much better, both mentally and physically. My body was warm; my clothes were soft, comfortable, and dry; and the ibuprofen was starting to kick in. The smell of hot chocolate filled my kitchen, and a fire was blazing in the hearth.
I didn’t see Steve at first. Then, he appeared from the tiny mudroom in dry clothes.
“I keep a change of clothes in my truck,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “Feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Good.” He waved toward the couch. “Sit. I made hot chocolate.”
My lips quirked. “You’re being very bossy.”
Another supremely masculine grunt.
I sat on the sofa, and Steve carried two mugs over. Before sitting down himself, he took the lap blanket and draped it over my legs. It was such a thoughtful thing to do. I wasn’t used to that.
“I put a shot of Baileys in there,” he told me. “I figured you could use it.”
I definitely could. That was why I kept a six-pack of single-serving Baileys shots with me wherever I was staying. For occasions just like this.
“Thanks.”
I expected him to start lobbing questions at me right away, but he didn’t. I knew instinctively that he was giving me time, and I appreciated that as much as the blanket and the coffee.
