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Nicolette went downstairs, following the smell of something delicious that led her to the kitchen. Since Clara was gone on a business trip, good smells were not something that should be coming from that room. As she heard Garth singing along to the under-the-cabinet satellite radio, she found it impossible to keep from smiling ear to ear. While the man was certainly hard to understand when he was speaking, his English while singing was quite clear and deep, like his voice.

It was only half past six in the morning and he was rocking out to Billy Idol’s “White Wedding.”

The man did not shy away from the loud parts. She had to admit it was impressive. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and bit her lower lip to keep from giggling at the sight of the giant of a man moving his head back and forth along with his shoulders, as he danced in place in front of the stove.

He held a kitchen towel that Nicolette had purchased for Clara as a gag gift. It said “Kitchen Bitch”—something Clara often called herself because she was the one always left cooking for them.

Garth’s hair was down again, with the smallest of braids sprinkled throughout, as it had been when they’d collided. He was in a darker pair of jeans than he’d been in, and was now wearing a green short-sleeved shirt that matched his eyes and fit him snugly, showing off his amazing body. She could have sworn he’d been in a gray shirt when she’d woken last night.

She inhaled but didn’t catch the smell of cloves, cinnamon, or vanilla. She just smelled whatever he was cooking, and him. Both smelled fantastic. Her body heated at the sight of him there in her kitchen, pulling a cast-iron skillet from the oven.

He glanced over at her and paused, holding the skillet in midair, the burner still lit. He reached out and shut off the radio. A slow smile touched his lips. “You look beautiful.”

She blushed. The man had seen her naked and a simple compliment made her blush.

He set the skillet on a different burner. He then wiped his hands on a towel from the counter before carrying over two plates full of food and setting them on the two-person table. “I wasn’t sure if you like frittatas. I hope so.”

She did laugh at the way he pronounced “frittatas.”

It sounded like he was the spokesman for a bra-burning campaign with the sole goal of freeing all ta-tas.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,”

she managed without laughing outright. It was hard. She took a seat at the kitchen table and beamed at the sight before her. “It looks amazing. I’m jealous of your culinary skills. I’m limited to blender things only.”

“I found some sort of gray sludge in the refrigerator. Was that your handiwork?”

he asked with a teasing grin.

She nodded. “It is. Well, I can’t take all the credit. My uncle helped me develop it. Normally, I wake up craving a glass. But not this morning. Weird. Did you try any?”

His eyes widened. “No. It smells like paste.”

She’d never heard it described that way before. “It’s not bad.”

He stepped away from the table and came back with two cups of coffee. “Are you sure you can’t call in sick today?”

She touched his forearm. “I couldn’t do that to my kids. We’re having our celebration this morning.”

As she thought about the smashed cupcakes, she frowned. “I’m hoping they aren’t too disappointed when I tell them there’s no special treat.”

Garth winked and then tapped her plate. “Eat up. I know what you spent the night doing and how many calories that burned. Get to eating, beauty.”

She put some food on her fork and glanced at him. “Why do you call me that?”

“What? Beauty?”

She nodded.

“You’ve looked in a mirror before, right?”

he asked as if that explained everything.

Nicolette ate a bit of the frittata and flavor exploded in her mouth. She’d always thought Clara’s cooking was amazing. This made Garth look like a world-renowned chef. She covered her mouth partially as she spoke. “Ohmygod, this is the best thing ever. I’m so keeping you.”

He grinned. “Funny. I was just thinking about how I plan to keep you.”

She stilled. As much as she wanted to keep the man, she suspected it wouldn’t be that easy. “You never said where it is you live. I’m guessing it’s not here in Savannah.”

“No,”

he said before sipping his coffee. “I’m about eight hours away.”

Her good mood deflated. “That far?”

He nodded. “Finish eating, and I’ll take you to work.”

“You don’t have a car here,” she said.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I handled a few things last night,”

he confessed before eating more of his food.

She did the same, wondering where it was the man had been all her life. She also wondered what in the world was wrong with him. Men as good as him weren’t free agents for long. Smart women snatched them up. A sinking thought came over her. “Garth, are you seeing anyone? Like a girlfriend or a wife?”

He sat back fast in his seat. “No! Are you?”

It was hard to avoid laughing at the horrified expression on his face. “No. There’s no one else.”

“Just me?”

he questioned, relaxing slightly.

“I don’t know. Am I seeing you now? I have to be honest. I thought last night was a one-and-done kind of thing.”

Garth’s green gaze eased over her, heating her in intimate places. “If we’re being honest, so did I. And then, at about the three-minute mark after running into you, I think I knew deep down I was wrong.”

“The three-minute mark? Hmm. I just figured it out this morning.”

She reached out and touched his arm lightly, while smiling.

He feigned shock.

She laughed and then finished eating. “Seriously, this was awesome. I’d keep you around just for this even if you weren’t fantastic in bed.”

Garth’s deep laugh rolled over her. He stood and took her plate to the sink. He set about cleaning up as if he lived there and did that kind of thing all the time.

“I can get this,”

said Nicolette as she followed him to the sink.

He twisted and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. “No. You’re going to finish getting ready for work and then I’m taking you there. Oh, there’s a box for you on the dining room table.”

She stared up at him. “A box? For me? Someone used the dining room?”

It was a room she and Clara never made use of. Confused as to how a package had arrived for her so early, Nicolette headed to the dining room. As she entered, she spotted a bakery box on the table. Not just any bakery—the very one she’d had make the specialty cupcakes for her. This box wasn’t annihilated. It looked brand-new.

She approached it and found it full of cupcakes, just like the ones that had been ruined.

“What the…?”

Strong arms wrapped around her waist. “Mmm, they’re made of nothing cupcake-y. Just the way you like them.”

I’m not going to be overly girly and cry.

I’m not going to cry.

Crap. I’m going to cry.

She teared up and fanned her face as if that might stop the tears. It didn’t. She wiped at her eyes, trying to hide the evidence of her emotions from Garth.

His body conformed to hers from behind. “You’re upset with me.”

“No,”

she managed, her hands moving over his. She leaned back against him. “How did you manage this? The bakery was about to close when I got these last night. It doesn’t even open until ten today.”

Garth smiled against her ear. “I’m full of surprises.”

He was.

“I also figured out who Ernie was. You are right. He does obey well.”

She laughed.

“Thank you,”

she said, twisting enough to kiss his lips.

He growled against her mouth. “Beauty, if you keep doing that and keep smelling and looking so good, you’re going to find yourself getting bent over the table and fucked hard.”

She smiled. The idea had merit.