Chapter 7

“White shirt.” His chin brushed his collar.

“Oh.” I took a breath. “Put your hands up.”

He raised them as if under arrest.

“No.” I laughed. “Cup them under your chin.” I showed him with the one I had free. Then he did it with both of his as I brought the spoon to his mouth.

“Oh my God! That is so good.”

“There’s plenty. Have you eaten?” What the hell was I doing? I turned away. “Forget it. You were on your way someplace.”

“Sadly, yes. But turnabout is fair play. Have a cookie.” He opened the container. “And maybe I can take some pasta home?”

“Of course.” I smiled.

Sawyer frowned. “Was that rude…asking for food like that?” He took a bite of cookie and purposely dribbled crumbs into his hand—a joke—a gag. “I have no manners.”

“Not rude at all.” I smiled again. I couldn’t help it. “I’m happy to share. Like I said, I made a ton.” I grabbed a cookie for my trip to the cupboard to get him a bowl.