Right Number, Wrong Girl

I didn’t want her to actually figure it out.

I had to be more careful.

“Is everything all right this afternoon?” I asked Sophie, quietly coming up behind her. “No issues?”

She nodded. “Thankfully. It was a lot of work yesterday, but I think it might have saved it from anything going wrong. If there is anything else, I’ll know about it.”

“Good. Have you had lunch yet?”

“I haven’t. I wanted to make sure this was all going smoothly first.”

“Come and get something to eat.” I rested my hand on her upper back. “Or you’ll end up in the same situation you did yesterday.”

She rolled her eyes at me, but she put down the clipboard and followed me out of the ballroom all the same.

“What do you want to do? Eat here or go into the village and get something?”

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t the village be a little suspicious?”

“I suppose, but it’s not like you’ll get much more privacy here.”

“It’s just easier to stay here. Besides, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving.”

I understood that. “All right, then. Any specific requests?” I asked as we entered the kitchen, rolling up my sleeves.

Sophie stopped. “You’re going to cook?”

“I can cook.”

“You can?”

I turned around and looked at her. “Why are you so horrified by that?”

“I’m not horrified.” She shuffled closer to the island. “I just… didn’t peg you for much of a chef.”

I held out my hands. “What do you want to eat?”

“That depends what you can cook. Preferably the thing with the least chance of giving me food poisoning.”

I stared at her, and the corners of her mouth twitched for a moment before she dropped her head and averted her gaze. Her shoulders shook as a tiny laugh escaped her, and she walked up to the island.

“Sorry. That was mean.”

I shook my head and opened the fridge. “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

She really did laugh at that. “Not my favourite way to be described.”

“I know. That’s why I use it.” I looked inside the fridge and found some salads that were already prepacked by the chef Mum hired. “Prawn or chicken salad?”

“Chicken, please. I guess.”

“Great.” I took out two chicken salads and put one in front of her.

“You are such a great cook I didn’t even see you do it,” she deadpanned.

Laughing, I handed her a fork and sat down with her. “I did intend to cook, but I saw these and thought it might be easier.”

Sophie shook her head, taking the fork from me. “And you wonder why I was shocked that you said you can cook.”