gaze on her as she moved around the kitchen work island dicing ham and cheese.
“No box?” His question caught her by surprise.
“Nope. Scratch.” She tossed the cheese and ham into the pot with the drained pasta, added some milk and stirred.
“Isn’t a box easier?”
“Not really, and this tastes a whole lot better.” Satisfied with the progress of their meal preparation, she turned her attention to the next item on her agenda—securing Cabrini while they ate. “Which hand do you eat with?”
The wicked twinkle in his eyes told her he was remembering the rest stop and her logistical error. A slow smile curved his lips. An answering heat crept up her neck.
Manitoba. She hadn’t blushed this much since…ever.
She had a bad feeling she better get used to the heat.
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