“Whatever the case, you’re right. I’ve been too complacent in the past, too willing to let others dictate the course, even when I didn’t agree with it. I don’t want to do that anymore. So, it’s important to me to find my own solutions. To figure things out on my own.”
He surprised her by smiling. “Okay. So…you found me.”
“Actually, you found me. Or the inn, anyway.”
“Chicken and egg. The bottom line is I’m in your life and if you’re someone who looks at fate or things having a bigger meaning, then maybe that’s why I’m here. The point is, you are in control of this. I’m just saying I could be the solution to this problem.” His smile grew and it made that twinkle come to life in his eyes. “Maybe you’re just supposed to be smart enough to recognize a solution when there is one and use it to your advantage.”
She couldn’t help it, she smiled, too. “Either you really believe what you’re saying, or you’re an amazing bullshit artist.”
“It’s possible there is a little of both there.”
“So, what’s in it for you? You probably already know that your chances of getting lucky again are in your favor. And I doubt you’re looking for a free ride on your room charges.”
“Actually, I’m not certain of anything where you’re concerned. A pushover you are not.”
Now she smiled. “Well, then I’m making progress.”
“As for what’s in it for me? It’ll make me happy to help you out, to see you push through this stumbling block and have the chance to make this place be what you know it can be. You can’t help the weather.” He finally reached up and touched her face.
It took remarkable control not to rub her cheek into his palm.
“Let me do something good here. It helps me, too. Okay?”
“You make it really, really hard, you know that?”
He reached for her hips, tugged her up against him. “Well, then, I’d say we’re even.”
She laughed even as she blushed, which was kind of funny given what they’d been doing in this very kitchen just yesterday.
“Eat your pasta,” he told her, reaching past her to pick up the container.
“Now you’re going to ride herd on my food intake?”
He tucked the container into her hands and then framed her face and kissed her. Hard. “No,” he said when he lifted his head. “I just think stamina is probably going to be a good thing.”
“You think so, do you?” she said, going for sanguine, missing by a mile. He was…hell, she couldn’t even quantify any longer what he was.
“Let’s just say I’m hoping.” He pressed a finger to her mouth, then stroked her bottom lip. “And if you say anything else about my offer to help being some kind of insurance for extra favors, I will take that as a direct insult. Other than being one of the many reasons why I’m all wrapped up in you, this,” he said, dropping another hard kiss on her mouth, “has nothing to do with that.”
“Wasn’t going to say a word,” she said, looking a bit stunned.
“Good.” He nudged the bowl at her. “Eat.”
“Not all that hungry all of a sudden.”
“Hmm. Well.” His smile spread slowly. “Maybe we should focus on building your appetite, then. As it happens, I have quite an appetite. Where you’re concerned, anyway.”
Her entire body responded to his suggestion in ways that the best comfort food in the world couldn’t have appealed to her. “Shouldn’t we be working on…whatever it is we have to do to see if your idea will work?”
“I just have to make a few calls, find out what the time frame will have to be. It won’t take that much to generate interest; then it’s just a matter of figuring out the logistics.”
He kissed Kirby’s knitted brows. “Don’t worry. I’ll set it up so it works out for the best. For both of us.”
“Okay,” she said, still torn between massive relief and being a little worried that he was leaping before he was looking. “So, what happens next?”
“I’ll make those calls; then we’ll have to wait to get some feedback. I don’t think it will take long.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. “I know we can make this work.”
She took a short, shaky breath. “Okay. Wow, but okay.” She looked at him. “You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent sure. The question isn’t will it work, but how long it will take to put together.”
“All right.” She smiled a little, then, more confidently. “All right.”
He laughed. “See? Not all that hard, right?”
She laughed, too. “Oh, I didn’t say that. But I appreciate this, Brett. All of it. Your proposed solution and making it easier to say yes to accepting your help. This is the best solution I could hope for. Win-win.” Then she held his gaze in steady regard and grew more serious. “As long as you promise me this isn’t going to put you in a place you don’t need to be. I don’t know all the reasons you stopped playing, or why you left Vegas. But I can’t move forward with fixing my problem if it adds to yours.”
“I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He bracketed her hips and tugged her closer again. “So, I was thinking, we could either stand around here in the kitchen and talk about not eating my very fine pasta, or…”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. They both laughed.
“I’m not sure, but I think I was just flattered and insulted all at the same time.”
She shook her head. “But maybe I should at least make an effort. Is there anything I can do…with the rest of this? Any calls I can make locally to get the ball rolling?”
“Once I get things started out west, then yes, it’s definitely going to have to be a team effort.”
“Team efforts are good.” She picked up the pasta and found that she was kind of ravenous all of a sudden.
“Agreed.” He stepped back, gave her some space, and went to fix himself a cup of coffee.
Too late, she thought to warn him about the toxic level of caffeine she’d been shooting for earlier and had to apologize when he gagged. “Sorry.”
“Wow,” was all he said after he finished choking. “Sort of like a caffeine Slurpee.”
“Pretty much. I didn’t sleep. I needed a boost.”
“Astronauts need a boost. This is…wow.”
She sat down her bowl. “Let me make another pot.”
“I can do that. Eat.”
She saluted him with her fork. “Yes sir, captain sir.”
“It’s not so much about bossing you around as it is about me making a cup of coffee that won’t keep me up until 2025.”
“I’d call you on that, but you might have a point.” She gestured to the cupboard over the coffeemaker. “The beans are in there, and the grinder.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Freshly ground coffee?”
He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. She went back to forking up her now cold pasta. It was quite possibly the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten. “You know, and I’m not trying to butt in or anything, but given that you have apparently cashed in more than a few poker chips in your day, you could go out and get your own grinder and coffeemaker and have freshly ground and brewed coffee every single morning. Just saying.”
“For that I’d have to stay in one place for more than a week at a time. And remember to buy beans.”
“So you travel a lot? Are famous poker players like rock stars where you have a list of things you request that have to be in your dressing room?”
“We don’t get dressing rooms.”
“Right, you get actual rooms. Humongous suites in fancy hotels. Well, if the movies are to be believed.”
She looked at him expectantly. He didn’t refute her supposition, other than to say, “Little inns in Vermont are more my speed.”
“So, in these big, fancy suites, can’t you make a few demands?”
“I could try.”
“But you don’t.”
“Never thought I needed anything that badly to be a pretentious ass about it.”
“Back to that arrogant-cocky argument.”
