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Her eyes stay fixed on me as I walk around the counter to where she’s standing and I walk up behind her.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks.
“Not at all,” I say.
I wash my hands in the sink quickly and then walk directly behind her, reaching over her shoulder and grabbing another large handful of ham and then another large handful of cheese.
The quesadilla is bursting with the contents I just loaded up, but I need to increase my calorie intake tonight since I missed a meal today.
“Like that. It takes a lot of food to feed me, and like I said, I didn’t eat lunch.”
“I bet it does,” she says.
But the way she says it in a low voice makes me wonder if there is innuendo I missed.
I step back and away from her.
However, she meant it; the last thing I need to do is analyze it.
“You can make the next one?” I ask, backing away and heading back to my bar stool.
“I think I get the idea now,” she says, starting to load up a second tortilla with a healthy helping like I showed her as she waits for the first quesadilla to heat up all the cheese. “So I’m guessing since I’m still here that means Rita didn’t have space for me.”
Brynn’s eyes stay focused on her task and don’t raise up to meet mine.
“She gave the available room she had away to a family who needed it. If I took you over there, it wouldn’t be as comfortable for you as it is here.”
She looks over at me finally.
“You don’t have to worry about my comfort. I’m intruding on your space. As long as I have a safe place to lay my head, anywhere will be fine.”
She grabs a spatula and slides it under the filled tortilla, and drops it onto a plate for me.
Reaching out, I grab the plate of hot food and set it in front of me. I’ll probably consume this thing in less time than she’ll have to make me a second one.
"Thanks for dinner," I say to her.
Being able to come in after a long day and not have to scrounge around for something quick to eat when I came in was a nice surprise.
"You're welcome. It's the least I could do."
“You have a book due, right? If you’re going to spend most of your time writing in the guest room, we won’t see much of each other. And in a couple of days, the airport should be back up and running. Then you can choose to either fly home or take up a vacant room in Silas’s hotel once flights start taking vacationers out of here.”
She puts the next tortilla on the frying pan and starts the same process again while I eat my dinner.
“That’s very generous of you. If I can stay a couple more days, I’ll stay out of your way. I promise.”
“We’ll make it work,” I say, and then I get to work decimating the food in front of me.
I eat the first one in a matter of minutes, and just as I finish, she has the second one done and slides it onto my empty plate.
I watch her begin to assemble her own as I eat.
“Did you get any writing done today?”
“Actually, I did. I got the rest of my outline worked out. Now, I just need to start working through the chapters.”
Ever since she told me that she writes romance books, I’ve been curious about what exactly that entails.
