13. Chapter Thirteen
ANNA
“Did you use the homemade peanut butter?” Elsa asked, leaning in to inspect the bowl of cookie dough.
“Yes.”
That had been a new experience. Anna didn’t realize anyone made their own peanut butter, but it turned out to be quite easy. Dry roasted peanuts from the farmers market, sea salt, and eight to ten minutes in the Cuisinart was all it took.
“And you added in the chopped nuts? Peanut butter chips? Chocolate chips?”
“Yes,” Anna replied.
“Excellent. Use the big scoop and make them a good size, will you, dear? No one likes a small cookie.”
Anna thrust the stainless steel scoop into the bowl, adding ball after ball of dough onto the tray.
Before long, the kitchen was filled with the scents of roasted nuts and baking cookies, and Anna had to admit, they smelled fantastic. When she took two cookies off the first tray to come out of the oven—one for her and one for Mrs. Campbell—she nearly groaned at how delicious they were.
“Told you,” Elsa said with a grin.
The last tray had barely been taken out of the oven before Mrs. Campbell was tucking a cloth napkin into a decorative container and bringing it over to the cooling racks. “Put them in here, then take them right over.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now. They’re best right out of the oven, when they’re warm and soft. In fact, I’ll pack these up. You get your coat and boots.”
Mrs. Campbell was insistent, and Anna began to worry that Elsa’s blood pressure might spike if she didn’t deliver those cookies immediately. So, she donned her outerwear and made the trek next door. Mrs. Campbell was in the window, her eyes burning holes in Anna’s back.
The Callaghans’ place was bigger than the view from Mrs. Campbell’s kitchen suggested. It wasn’t just a cozy stone cottage; it had matching wings built out from either side. Diamond-paned windows with dark trim and matching shutters made it look as if it had been taken right out of a fairy tale.
The closer she got, the more impressed she was. She walked up the three steps onto the central porch, noting the mounted carriage lights on either side of the massive carved door, which, naturally, was inlaid with stained glass.
Anna pressed the tiny lighted button, dimly hearing a low chime from within. Long moments passed, and no one appeared. Perhaps they weren’t home. The kids would be in school, the parents working. The intended cookie recipient was … well, wherever he was, doing whatever it was he did.
Not that she thought about him or what he did. Much.
Anna turned toward Mrs. Campbell’s house and, knowing the old woman was watching, shrugged. She decided to leave the cookies in front of the door. Sure, they’d be cold by the time someone found them, but it was better than having to come back later.
She was just setting the cookies down when the door opened. Bent over as she was, a pair of bare feet filled her line of vision.
Big, surprisingly attractive male feet.
Anna drew her gaze upward, over faded blue denim encasing powerful thighs, over a tanned, ripped torso visible through the flannel shirt hanging open on both sides. And … wow. The man could model … well, anything. Jeans. Flannel. Snug-fitting boxer briefs …
“Yes, I’ve got her,” he said in that deep, velvety voice. “Thanks, Mrs. C.”
The hand with the phone lowered into her field of vision. Anna closed her eyes briefly and steeled herself before completing the visual journey. When she reached his face, his lips were curved in a sexy smirk, and his eyes flashed with amusement, as if he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on women.
Because of course he did. Everything about him was lethal to female defenses.
And, dammit, he smelled good too. Even better than the cookies.
“Sorry I didn’t hear the door. Are those Mrs. C’s peanut butter chip cookies?”
Anna realized the cookies were still in her hands. “Oh, uh, yeah. To thank you for helping with the snow yesterday.”
She thrust the cookies out to him. Instead of taking them, however, he stepped back and opened the door wider.
“Come on in.”
She didn’t dare, but she did allow herself a quick eye sweep, mostly to regain the sense of balance he’d knocked completely off-kilter. The place looked even cozier on the inside. A fire blazed in a stone hearth. The furnishings were done in deep jewel tones. The oversize sectional was the kind a person could snuggle down into and stay for days. Oh, and gorgeous framed sketches on the wall that looked like originals.
“I was just making myself some coffee,” he said, breaking into her appraisal. “Join me?”
Her eyes snapped back to his, and she instinctively took a step back. “What? I mean, no, thanks. I need to get back.”
He looked up toward Mrs. Campbell’s house, smiled, and waved. “I don’t think Mrs. C would mind if you came in for a few minutes.”
“Yes, but …” A sudden gust of wind blew through the still-open door, pushing the sides of his open shirt back. She caught a flash of gold.
Holy Madonna. Were those gold rings through his nipples?
More importantly, was that a bandage taped to his side? With a red stain seeping through?
“You’re bleeding.”
The change was subtle, but Matt’s easy, relaxed posture became less so. He pulled the halves of his shirt together and fastened the lowest button, covering the bandage. His smile was still there, though his gray eyes had lost some of their amusement. “It’s nothing.”
“Really? Because it sure looks like something.” She couldn’t believe what was about to come out of her mouth. “Would you, uh, like me to take a look at that for you?”
“Not necessary.”
“I have medical training.” Why was she pushing?
“It’s fine. Really. Thanks for bringing these down, and please thank Mrs. Campbell for making them too.” He held his hand out expectantly.
I made them, she thought, but said nothing. Clearly, the invitation to stay for a cup of coffee had been rescinded.
“Of course,” she said, handing them over. “Enjoy.”
“I’m sure I will.”
With nothing more to say, Anna stepped back and turned to go. She hadn’t made it to the first step before the heavy door closed behind her.
What was that all about?
Elsa gave her a disappointed look when she reentered her house a few short minutes later.
“What’s that look for?” Anna asked. “I gave him the cookies.”
“Didn’t he invite you in?”
“He did. I said no.”
Mrs. Campbell gave an exasperated sigh that sounded a lot like her name. “Don’t you like him?”
Anna narrowed her eyes. Clearly, there had been more behind the baking and taking of cookies than simple appreciation. Time to nip that in the bud.
“I have no feelings for him one way or the other,” she lied.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think he likes you. I saw the way he looked at you.”
How was he looking at me? Anna bit her tongue to stop the words from passing over her lips. She was trying to make a point. “Then, perhaps we should add an appointment with the optometrist to our schedule.”
Elsa humphed. “My eyesight is just fine. But perhaps we should make one for you. He is a fine young man from a good family. Quite easy on the eyes, too, if I do say so myself. What’s the problem?”
The problem was that Anna couldn’t afford to get involved with anyone. No strings, no entanglements, no regrets. When it was time to move on, she would make a clean break and leave nothing behind. It was what she had been doing for years. It was the only thing she could do.
“There’s no problem. I’m just not interested. You keep me more than busy enough.”