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“No.” He looked taken aback. “Why would I think that?”
“I don’t know. You seem kind of accusatory.”
“I’m not being accusatory. I just think if my name is being bandied about with yours, I have a right to know.”
“Well,myname is being bandied about withyours,but I’m not getting all hot under the collar about it.”
“Youseembloody hot under the collar about it,” he said.
“I’m not,” I said, slamming the sun visor back into place. “I’m just hungry. I barely got anything to eat at that thing tonight, what with Garrett pulling that stunt of his, and the fact that all they served was shellfish. Why did you choose a restaurant that only serves shellfish? Shellfish is all well and good, but it hardly sticks to your ribs like a good plate of pasta.”
Will looked annoyed. “Do you want pasta right now? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do want pasta right now.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is a small islandin the Florida Keys, not New York City. It’s after ten o’clock at night, and there isn’t any place that’s still open that serves pasta. The only place you’re going to get it is at my house.”
“Fine,” I said, folding my arms across my chest and leaning back against the cloudlike seat. “Take me to your house, then.”
“My house?” The corners of Will’s mouth twitched, though he was trying his best, I could tell, to continue to look annoyed. “Do you want me to make pasta for you at my house?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
Which was how we ended up at his house—though we didn’t eat pasta.
Oh, Will put a big pot of water on for it. He said he had a delicious recipe for homemade macaroni and cheese—it was the comfort meal he’d always made for Chloe when she’d been a kid, he said.
He took off his jacket and stood at his amazing kitchen’s granite-topped island, shredding cheddar cheese, while I sipped white wine and petted Susie the springer spaniel, listening to the soft, gentle rain that had begun to fall outside. Will had left all the glass doors open, so the cool sea breeze and the smell of the rain mingled with the scent of the sizzling roux.
“The trick,” Will was saying, looking happier and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, “is to add pepper, because no one likes a bland macaroni and cheese.”
“That’s true,” I said. Susie was resting her head on my knee. I’d never been much of a dog person, but Chloe’s dogseemed gentle and sweet, like her owner. “So can I ask you a question?”
He laid down the chunk of cheese he’d been holding, his gaze wary. “Uh-oh.”
I grinned. “Why ‘uh-oh’?”
“It’s never good when someone asks if they can ask a question.”
“You’re right about that. What I want to know is, why am I getting a ten-thousand-dollar stipend, and the rest of the authors at the festival are only getting fifteen hundred?”
He turned on the faucet and rinsed his cheesy hands, taking his time before replying. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come for less.”
I nearly choked on my wine. “You’vegotto be kidding me. Ten thousand dollars? I hope you donated the money yourself.”
“I did.” He’d switched off the faucet, dried his hands, and now walked around the island to stand in front of me. Susie wagged her tail, perhaps smelling cheese and thinking a treat was coming her way. But she was going to be disappointed. All the treats coming from Will were for me. “I told you I’d heard how upset you were with me. And I needed to make sure you’d come so that I could apologize to you properly.” He leaned against the counter, trapping me within his arms. “And in person.”
I frowned at him, though inside, my heart was racing at his close proximity. He smelled of soap and the rain outside and the cheddar cheese he’d grated. “You know I can’t keep that money.”
His lips were just inches from mine. “Why not?” “Because there’s a conflict of interest.” “And what is that?”
I set down my wineglass and pulled his face to mine.“This.”
The Momentby Will Price
“Come on, Johnny,” my sister said from her seat on the edge of my bed. “Please. You have to eat.”
But I couldn’t. Without Melanie, food had no flavor.
