Page 18 of Winning His Wager
“You bake?” She cooked and cooked phenomenally well—he couldn’t deny that now. But cookies would be really good right now. Maybe cookies could distract him from that damned shirt. Or, rather, what was underneath it.
“Of course I bake, dear. I am a housekeeper now. Not as good as Meyra—that is another Talley that excels at what she does—but I canbake.Who do you think cooked and baked and cleaned for my fam all those years when Mom was having her struggles? I am very good at thiskeepingthing. Lifetime of experience.”
His house was spotless. He had clean laundry at all times. She cooked better than anyone he had ever met. She’d made him eat his words already on her abilities. No denying that.
But, hell, she was only twenty-three—how many years had she been caretaker for her younger sisters and her mother?
He was starting to suspect it was far too many.
“When did you take care ofyou?” The words came out before he could stop them. But damn it, everything she said about her parents was painting him a picture. One he didn’t like. “When you were busy taking care of everybody else? Where was your damned father?”
“Working, dude. Working. Four kids are expensive, you know. Probably a good thing he didn’t keep the eight. They never could have afforded us all. But I learned how to stretch a dollar, no denying that. And how to keep a house. You are benefiting. Don’t know why you are complaining. Which…we are going to have to go to the grocery store very soon. Just so you know. Like tonight. Did you know you don’t have a single fresh vegetable in this place anywhere?”
She wasn’t going to stop. Fletcher knew that much about her. She would drive him crazy until he did exactly what she wanted. That was a battle he’d lost on day three when she’d started rearranging his mudroom toherliking so he’d be less likely to get mud onherclean floors. “Fine. I’ll shower. We’ll go in an hour. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. That will give me just enough time to get what we need. Then you can drop me off at the inn on your way home. I’ll get a ride back after I’m finished there.”
The inn? Again? “Why? It’s your night off.”
Normally, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but she had thatlookin those green eyes again. One that told him the inn was the last place she really wanted to be. He wasn’t an expert onDylanor anything, but he was becoming more and more convinced that the inn was becoming more and more difficult for her every damned day right now. And he felt a little bit useless at fixing that.
The inn was her history, her heritage. Her legacy. It shouldn’t hurt her this much.
“Abby called off again. Someone has to cover the hours, and I’m trying to be a goodextralittle Talley and everything. You know, earn my place or something.”
She’d worked the last five days straight between the inn and diner. And had his place practically shining. Fletcher looked closer. She lookedtired,damn it. “And one of your sisters or cousins couldn’t cover it for once?”
“It’s only four hours. Daisy would have, but she had parent-teacher conferences. So I told her I would. I have the time.”
Um, where? In her back pocket? “No, you don’t. How many hours did you work for the Talleys this week?”
Damn it. She’d workedenough.
“Around forty-five, I think. Don’t worry, I put in my twenty here too. It’s all good. You are getting your money’s worth. But…go shower. We really need staples in this place. Go. I am being a goodextralittle housekeeper and gently bossing you around—for your own good, you know.”
She actually shooed him.
Fletcher went.
Damn it, the woman was going to drive him insane. Nothingreal womanabout her? Bullshit. What had he been thinking?
11
One of herfavorite places in Masterson County was probably the little IGA that was close to town. It was just so cute and small-town and friendly. They’d debated going to the box store forty miles up the road, but Dylan just didn’t have time, and with the generic labels at the IGA and the coupons she’d found—Dylan loved digital coupons—she could get the prices of the items they needed down to reasonable. Now she just had to get everything on her list and get her big, grumpy shadow to cooperate.
“Why do we need so much flour for?” he asked, scowling at the biggest bag when she told him to grab two. “It’s expensive.”
“I have a coupon for buy one get one half off any size, dear. And it’s cheaper by the ounce if you go with the larger bag—so it saves much more money in the long run, especially with the coupon. And if you want those cookies, I need flour. Sugar too.” And there was the brand she was looking for. Unbleached flour, check. Natural sugar, check.
She grabbed the tub of oats too, even though it was a bit pricier than she liked. He needed more fiber. It might clear up his…attitude.
Talk about grumpy. What had gotten into him? He was just glaring at her constantly today. She didn’t think she had done anything specific—maybe he was just having a grouchy day again?
“I have found you a bread machine. It was at the second-hand store. I paid five whole dollars for it. It will save you money, Fletchie dear. Money you can put to buying fabric so I can reupholster your favorite chair and make it pretty for you.”
“Quit calling medear.I am not your dear.”
“That you are not. Quade is. I am in love with Wonkus, remember? You are my boss. But you are remarkably grumpy. No more preservative-laden sandwich bread for you. Not while I am in charge of keeping you. Poor diet is probably why you have a poor attitude.”