A Funny Thing Happened...

‘By the back door—it’s got ash in it. If you’re going in, could you take these?’

She handed him a basket of eggs and he peered at them and cocked his head on one side with a quizzical grin. ‘I wonder what’s for breakfast?’ he murmured.

She laughed. ‘Put the kettle on, too. We’ll do the paths together in a minute.’

She ducked back inside the hen house, collected and packed the last of the eggs and checked the water, then shut them up and went across to the house. She wondered when he’d remember who she was, if he ever did, and decided to let it go on a bit longer before saying anything. It made the day more interesting, waiting for the penny to drop, she thought as she kicked off her boots.

The warmth wrapped itself round her like a blanket as she went in, and she dropped into a chair by the Rayburn and propped her feet on the front edge. ‘Oh, bliss,’ she groaned, and shut her eyes.

A hard, lean, masculine hip nudged her ankles. ‘Come on, out of the way. I’m trying to cook.’

She cracked an eye open. ‘Cook?’ she said disbelievingly.

‘Cook. Put some handcream on and keep out of the way. Is there any butter?’

She got up and found butter, then milk, then cut some bread and put it in the toaster.

‘When did you intend to have breakfast?’ he asked drily, and she muttered and flipped the bread back out of the lifeless tool and plopped back into the chair.

‘We’ll have bread,’ she suggested, and he. laughed, turning those astonishing navy eyes on her so her heart hiccuped. Wow, she thought, if he really set out to be charming he could be a real stunner—

‘How do you like your eggs?’

‘Soft and creamy.’

‘Ditto. Right, up you get.’

She was suddenly ravenous. The heap of rich, golden scrambled egg was cooked to perfection, and she stabbed her fork into it, forgetting all about Sam and his gorgeous dark blue eyes.