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It shouldn't affect me, and yet it extended so far that I vehemently told myself, despite the desire I felt, that I would wait for Amelia to make the first move. Then it was her decision, and I didn't take it from her. I didn't force anything on her. I was just there in case she decided to go for it. And even if she decided against it and just wanted to enjoy my company, I would still be there.
"You're doing it again," Wilder noted amusingly. "But if it's any consolation, I read the same thing in her eyes. Which kind of tells me that you still haven't managed to get her in bed."
He really couldn't decide which side he was on. So he just played devil's advocate and supported the mood I was in. When I needed it, he found arguments against it. When it came to encouraging me, he managed that with ease as well.
Whether that made him a particularly good friend or a damn strain on my nerves was not up for debate. In the last few days, he had gone to great lengths to keep me from going mad.
"What is she reading anyway?"
"A book I recommended to her."
What he muttered was unintelligible. "And what's it about?"
"Her favorite topic from what I can tell."
"You're speaking in riddles, Gray."
Because it was none of his business, and it all revolved solely around Amelia's reaction. And what I could observe across the campfire was exactly what I wanted to see. He didn't need to know that I had given her one of those books to read that included information on things that preoccupied me.
While she read about kidnappings, aliens, and dark affairs, I preferred other realms. Realms that were obviously not unfamiliar to her. And like everything that had been happening between us all this time, that was also reading between the lines.
"I think we have a problem." It was Soraya who spoke up. "We forgot the dessert for the barbecue, and the cook went home hours ago. Do you have an alternative, Gray?"
Yes.
And she had told me about her baking skills—but was still engrossed in her book.
15
AMELIA
The kitchen, where meals for the entire bed-and-breakfast were prepared, was huge. Every inch shone, setting it apart from all the other places I had cooked and baked in before.
Nervousness spread at the base of my spine, threatening to immobilize me for a moment. I looked to Gray for help. The cook and the rest of the staff had finished their shifts hours ago—which meant that the guests either had to leave the barbecue without dessert or I had to step in and whip up an old recipe from my grandmother to save the evening.
Unfortunately, I had let slip that I had a knack for baking, which is why I now found myself in this predicament.
"I shouldn't be doing this," I muttered, ready to turn around and head back outside to my cabin. That would have been the easy way out of the situation, but certainly not the right one, if Gray's expression was anything to go by.
He was hoping I could pull it off and save the evening. And if it had been just the two of us, it would have been doable. But exposing myself to the criticism of all these people didn't seem like the best way to end the evening.
"And why not, Amelia?" His voice carried genuine concern.
"What if I mess it up?"
"Has that ever happened before?"
His question made me clench my teeth. "No."
"Then why would it go wrong tonight?" he continued.
Because never had so many people simultaneously experienced what I had baked. Not to mention that Gray was behind me, and these were his guests. A mistake could reflect poorly on him.
His question had pulled me out of the scene I had been engrossed in. My eyes had been glued to that book. The content was not new to me, but the fact that it was recommended by Gray made it a glimpse into his world of thoughts in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
I licked my lips. "Because I might not be fully focused," I responded.
How was I supposed to remember the correct amounts in the recipe when my imagination was running wild? And what was happening in my head was far more interesting than anything I could possibly create with a few ingredients.
