Free Cooking Up Love by Cynthia Hickey Page B

hurried, he would have time for his own lunch before the customers arrived. He made two ham sandwiches and set one aside.
    The swinging doors opened and Tabby wheeled in the drink cart. “Goodness, folks are thirsty.” She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
    “I made you a sandwich.” Adam handed her the extra one.
    She eyed the plate in his hand and sighed before accepting. “Thank you.” She perched on a stool next to the counter. “You really are a persistent man, Adam Foster.”
    “Yes, I am.” He bit into his lunch. Should he let her know that he would warn Mr. Hastings away from her if she wished? Or wait and see whether she would ask for his help?
    Her chocolate-colored eyes peered over the sandwich. A shuttered look crossed them before her lids dropped, and she paid an undue amount of attention to her food. He grinned and enjoyed the blush spreading across her cheeks, content to eat in silence if that guaranteed him her company.
    “That was delicious. Thank you.” She hopped from the stool, brushed crumbs from her skirt, and skedaddled out the door as if she’d seen another mouse.
    Adam laughed. She could pretend she didn’t feel anything for him, but it was nothing more than an act.
    * * *
    Tabby dashed down the path to the gazebo. Why must Adam stare at her so intently? She couldn’t think when his gaze burned her the way it did.
    Short of breath, face flushed, she plopped onto the swing. Maybe she could spare five minutes to sit and rock, a little time to gather her thoughts. She stilled as Miss O’Connor and the new waitresses peered out the upstairs window.
    What kind of example did Tabby set, lounging in the sun, while work waited? She got to her feet and shuffled back to the restaurant to refill the drink pitchers.
    In the kitchen, Mr. Hastings spoke with Adam about the evening’s menu. Praying the man would leave her alone, Tabby moved past them and grabbed fresh pitchers of milk from the cooled section of the pantry. When he turned and fixed his gaze on her, she rushed to the coffee pots. Staying busy would make it harder for him to speak with her. She hoped.
    “Miss McClelland.” Tabby turned at Miss O’Connor’s greeting.
    “Your roommate is Miss Merrilee Ramsey. I’m sure you two will become fast friends. There’s enough time before lunch for you to show her where she’ll be sleeping.” Miss O’Connor lifted her chin.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Tabby smiled. Merrilee was the darker-haired beauty.
    Her new roommate turned a smile on Tabby that didn’t quite reach her almost-black eyes. “We’re sure to become close.” Her Southern drawl almost sounded like a foreign language. She leaned in and whispered, “But not as close as I’d like to get to that handsome chef.”

Chapter 10
    “W here are you going? It’s Sunday morning.” Merrilee sat up in bed, her face framed by the ruffle around the neckline of her nightgown.
    “Church.” Tabby poked the last pin in her hair. “I’ve stayed away too long.” And been too lax on her Bible reading.
    “The Bible is nothing but a book of fairy tales for weak-minded people.” Merrilee burrowed back under her blankets. “Besides, going to church seriously interferes with a girl’s beauty sleep. My day will be better spent on sidling up to that handsome chef. He’s been too busy all week to give me more than a passing glance.”
    Tabby rolled her eyes. Her roommate spent so much time on pursuits of beauty and even more talking about “the handsome chef” that Tabby wanted to throw a hairbrush at her. Tabby slipped her reticule over her arm. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy your rest.”
    Handsome chef, indeed. Tabby spotted Adam strolling down the street toward church. She grinned, suffering only a moment of conviction at being happy to know that Merrilee would have to wait until later to spend time with the object of her affection. She tried to be friendly with her roommate, but the girl’s high-handed manner grated on