Chapter 6 It’s Our Little Secret
It's Our Little Secret
Mara was glad the kitchen they shared was huge. They’d need it for the amount of food they’d bought, with more on the way.
Fiona was amazing. The woman not only ran the grocery store; she was also a talented baker and cook in her own right. She sold homemade jams and jellies. Frozen meals the people on the farm bought when it was their night to cook.
She shared her suppliers willingly. Almost everything was from other Vermont and New Hampshire locations.
Seth felt as strongly about shopping locally as Mara did, so it was great to have those connections.
Fiona had told them to mention they were her friends when they ordered, to smooth the way with people they didn’t know.
Vermont was very different from the places she’d worked before. Anson hadn’t cared much about local suppliers, only the bottom line.
Mara figured shopping locally and making connections were worth far more than a few pennies saved.
It took four trips to bring all their purchases in from the vehicle. When the cloth bags and boxes sat on the table, she and Seth shared a look. Time to figure out how to share the pantry, fridge, and freezer spaces.
She pointed. “Why don’t you organize the freezer any way you’d like? You’ll need a lot more space than I will. Mostly, it’ll be butter for me.”
He nodded. “I’ll start there. The coolers will have kept this cool, but I want everything in there first.”
Which made sense. Pantry items could wait. Mara put in her earbuds and decided on a Western playlist. Inspired by the Saloon, she hummed along to “Oklahoma” and “Anything You Can Do.”
The fridge was double-sized, so there should be plenty of room for both of them. Seth would require more space here as well, since most of her larger supplies were pantry items like flours and sugars.
It didn’t take long for her to fill up the door on the left-hand side of the fridge and load the fruits and vegetables into the crisper bins. The settings were already perfect, but she wasn’t sure if that was thanks to Gray or Seth.
She was deep into the emotions of “Secret Love” from Calamity Jane when something brushed her arm.
She whirled, yanking the buds from her ears.
Seth. Just Seth.
He held up his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare the crap out of you.”
She sucked in a deep breath, trying to control her galloping heart. “Not your fault. I was lost in the song and the task. I forgot I wasn’t alone.”
Which was a miracle. Especially when she knew she’d been alone with a man. She’d worked with Anson for years and had become accustomed to being on alert. He hadn’t actually gotten handsy until the last few months, but something about him had kept her wary from the beginning.
If she’d needed proof Seth was nothing like Anson, she had it now. Not only had she relaxed in his presence, but he’d also only lightly brushed her elbow to get her attention and then backed away from her, with concern evident in his face and posture.
He frowned at her. “Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”
“What? No, of course not.”
He studied her. “Bullshit. Someone touched you without permission.”
How did he know that? She closed her gaping mouth. “I’m fine.”
One eyebrow shot up. “I repeat. Bullshit.”
Unable to maintain eye contact, Mara checked to see what he might have wanted. The freezer door was closed, and he’d stacked bags near the fridge and boxes by the huge pantry. “I’m done with the fridge. You can move anything to a different space if it makes more sense to you.”
His gaze didn’t move from hers. “You’re safe here. There are security systems at the farmhouse and here at the inn. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
Warm fuzzies ran through her at his fierce words.
He still didn’t look away. “Anyone who comes onto this property and makes you feel uncomfortable, you tell me.”
Wondering if he was thinking the worst, she couldn’t stop the words from blurting out. “I wasn’t raped.”
His frown deepened. “That’s good, but there are millions of other ways for an asshole to hurt a woman.”
Tears filled her eyes at that blunt statement. He was right, but she hadn’t been hurt. “He didn’t get a chance to hurt me.”
She hadn’t meant to say that either. What was it about this man that had her spilling her guts when she hadn’t said a word to anyone else?
Seth continued to watch her. “Also good. But he wanted to. I’m glad you got away from him before he could. I still want to kick his ass.”
That made her smile. “Thank you.”
“You’ll tell me if he shows up here, or if anyone makes you uncomfortable.”
It wasn’t a request. She didn’t take orders well, unless they were instructions in her job. Still, she found herself nodding.
Seemingly satisfied, Seth nodded but continued to study her. Finally, he released her gaze and turned to the fridge. “It’s much less chaotic than I figured.”
It took a moment to realize that he’d expected her to be disorganized. “That sounds like an insult.”
He barked out a laugh and turned to grab the largest bag of flour. He hefted it easily, and she enjoyed the ripple of his muscles under his shirt. “Where do you want this? Do you have smaller containers, or do you work with them like this?”
She sighed. “I’m used to using the large buckets, but I’ll just use them like this for now.”
He moved to the large pantry doors. “On the lowest shelf?”
“Yes, thanks.” She was short, and reaching up for it would be a pain in the butt.
He placed it and the other flour options on the bottom shelf. She would order more specialty flours once she saw what the suppliers offered.
They worked companionably for the next hour, not talking much. She wanted to fill the room with easy, working music, but she’d wait until she was alone for that. She wasn’t putting her earbuds in again today.
Once the groceries were settled, Seth looked at her with that serious gaze. “I’ve got knives and pans to bring in. Do you have any of your own things?”
She laughed. “Of course. The back of my car is loaded.”
His quick grin at that curled her toes. Actually curled her toes. She’d thought that was something she’d only experience in the romances she read, but here were her toes letting her know it happened in real life, too.
Over a strong, sexy man who didn’t like music and expected her to fill the fridge with chaos. A man with a limp that got worse the longer he stayed on his feet. A man who didn’t want to discuss it and pushed himself through the pain.
A man who wanted to protect her.
Containing the shivers, she hummed to herself as they headed out to grab their treasures from the vehicles.
It would be more fun sharing a kitchen than she’d expected.
She barely resisted the urge to sing “My Shot” from Hamilton. She hadn’t thrown away her shot when she’d left New York. This was it. This would be her shot at making her very own place.
Seth contained the anger. He believed Chaos Machine when she said the man hadn’t hurt her physically.
But the asshole had done something. Something that had her jumping at a soft touch. He’d only touched her because she’d been so involved in her task and the song she sang softly that she’d been oblivious to the world around them or to him calling her name to get her attention.
The instant fear on her face had him regretting touching her, but now he knew a little more. He’d be on the lookout for any assholes eyeing her up. And he’d avoid scaring the crap out of her again.
He didn’t promise himself he’d avoid touching her. He should, but the woman’s allure was proving to be stronger than his common sense.
He sat his ass down on a stool and pulled out his phone and a notebook.
They’d settled most of the kitchen items into place.
Surprisingly, they’d barely disagreed. Her approach to setting up a cooking area was similar to his.
Obviously, with a focus on baking rather than cooking, but he’d been relieved when she preferred an organized workspace.
His leg ached, but he didn’t want to leave. Not only did he need a sitting break before tackling the walk to the other farmhouse, but he didn’t want to leave Mara on her own after her admission.
What if the asshole she’d left behind was an obsessed ex? Gray had caught Seth up on what had happened with the other women on the farm. Sadly, he figured most women had to deal with abusive jerks no matter where they lived.
He was glad the other men here were just as protective as Seth was himself. No assholes allowed.
With the inn opening up to guests, he’d keep his guard up.
Had Mara told her brother more than she’d shared with Seth?
From the interactions he’d seen, they were close, but he doubted she’d shared the entire story.
Judging by her expression, she’d surprised herself by sharing as much as she had with Seth.
He wanted a name and a face. A way to let Amber into the loop so that she could refuse any reservations to the man.
Seth wasn’t in the least surprised when Mara started pulling out ingredients. If his leg weren’t aching, he’d have done the same. The kitchen demanded to be used.
Chaos Machine surveyed her options in the pantry while she hummed some tune he didn’t know. Soft and dreamy. No earbuds in this time, so the music must be only in her head.
None of the kitchens where he’d honed his craft had allowed music.
Seth’s mom had taught dance, so there’d often been music in the house, but after her death, he hadn’t tuned in to much of it himself.
His parents had died within months of each other, both of cancer, and he’d signed up for the army.
Not much music there, and he’d let it slide out of his life.
He figured that sharing a kitchen with Mara would have him learning her favorites by osmosis. And while he enjoyed silence, he didn’t mind her humming either. The memories didn’t hurt as much as they had.
Maybe because the baker was enticing as hell, and she was making him soft.
He almost snorted at that. The army had drilled all the softness out of him in the first few months. Given him a way to cope with the grief and the loneliness.
He’d learned to enjoy the disciplined life and hadn’t thought he’d ever be interested in being a chef again.
Yet here he was, having a blast scribbling recipe ideas into a notebook and dreaming up ridiculous names for his meals to go along with the inn’s name.
Mara’s humming grew in volume until she was singing and humming alternately as she put together the dough. She chopped apples and tossed them in while singing about spoonfuls of sugar and the worst pies in London.
Seth jotted down ideas as she worked, inspired by her movements and presence. Soon, his list of potential flavor combinations to try was pages long.
Should he try to make something of his own now? His leg was rested enough to try.
Maybe he’d throw together a salad with apple vinaigrette and fresh veggies. He wasn’t sure who was cooking tonight, but he doubted they’d mind.
Mara didn’t flinch when he stood. She smiled at him as she slid trays of cookies into the oven and turned to fill the sink with bubbles.
Huh. He hadn’t even noticed the chaos she’d left in her wake. Her humming and singing gave way to more upbeat songs, and he found himself mixing and chopping along to the beat.
When his salad was prepped and the vinaigrette bottled, he realized she’d grabbed some of his dishes and cleaned them along with her own. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
She smiled. “No problem. Doing dishes is my thinking time. It’s when I come up with my best new recipes.”
“Those cookies smell delicious.”
She laughed. “Apples, of course. Oatmeal, bits of chocolate, and a few spices.”
The scent reminded him of some places he’d worked overseas. “Chai spices?”
Her face lit up. “Yes. I hope they work together.”
He reached over and snagged one from her container. The still-warm cookie melted in his mouth, and he nodded. “They do. Nice.” It was. Unique and interesting.
Both their phones beeped at the same time, and Seth frowned. Was there a problem?
He noticed a slight tremble in Mara’s fingers as she pulled out her phone. Her face cleared instantly as he checked his own notifications.
From Ford. You probably can’t hear the bell from there. Dinner is served in ten. Be here.
He grinned. “Sounds like we have to leave our kitchen.”
Mara sighed dramatically, but her eyes twinkled. “I was hoping we’d never have to leave.”
That comment hit him straight in the gut. And slightly lower than his gut.
He was back to picturing her spread out on the island for his own personal feast. And up against the fridge, lost in a mind-shattering orgasm. Bent over the table while he thrust into her.
Hell.
He yanked himself under control. It took an effort to keep his voice light. “Same. Well, let’s bring our offerings and see what they’ve concocted for dinner.”
She put a lid on her cookies and sighed. “I wonder who’s cooking tonight.”
He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was would take his mind off the images of a naked Chaos Machine with bubbles from the sink the only thing covering her nude body. “Let’s find out.”
He had his body under control by the time he locked the door behind them and engaged the security system.
Whatever they were eating wouldn’t be as good as the images his brain kept feeding him.
Dumbass.