“I went out and bought some supplies. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”
“I locked the door.”
“I anticipated that and took your keys with me.”
Damn the man for having all the answers. She retreated to her room to put on a robe and comb her hair. Using the water he’d left beside her bed, she brushed her teeth. A quick rinse with mouthwash, and she returned to sit on a stool at her breakfast bar and scowl at him.
“You certainly have made yourself at home,” she groused. “I don’t recall issuing you an invitation to dinner.”
“You were in no shape to issue any sort of invitation.” His slow smile increased the room’s temperature. “But I’ve always had a knack for anticipating a woman’s needs.” He nudged a teacup toward her. “It’s peppermint. Good for nausea.”
Wondering how he’d know something like that, Emma sipped the tea. “Are you sure it was my needs you were anticipating and not yours?”
“I assure you, I thought only of you.”
Skepticism rumbled in her throat. Emma nodded toward th
e stove. “What are you cooking?”
“Chicken soup. My mother’s recipe.”
Now this was too much. “From scratch?”
“That’s the only way. Would you like to try some?”
“How could I resist?”
Nathan dished up two bowls and pushed a plate of crackers toward her. Emma inhaled the soup’s aroma and her stomach growled impatiently. The first spoonful of smooth chicken broth slid across her tongue, stimulating her taste buds with cilantro, lime and a hint of onion.
“This is delicious.”
“It’s not bothering your stomach?”
“Not at all. What a relief.”
Nathan finished his soup and set his bowl in her sink.
“Are you feeling strong enough to tell me what happened to your bathroom?”
“I had a leak in the shower.”
“Looks like overkill for a leak.”
“The plumber I hired found mold. I had him rip everything out so we could see how bad it was.”
Her explanation made him hiss in exasperation. “How long has it been like this?”
“A couple weeks.”
“You need to get this taken care of.”
She resented his assumption that she needed him to point that out to her. “It’s the holidays and everyone I called is busy until the end of January.”
“Mold is dangerous. You can’t stay here.”
“I’ve been living here for a year. I can survive another month.” Besides, she had no place to go.
“It’s dangerous,” he repeated. “Why didn’t you check into a hotel?”