Read Online The Doctor's Damsel (Men of the Capital Book 3) by Cara Nelson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cara Nelson
Ads: Link
was raw with hurt and it embarrassed him. Becca threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. Abe’s arms went around her and he hugged her back, feeling for just a second that things might not be as bad as they seemed.
“That has to be so hard for you,” she said, her voice warm with an agony of compassion, quick tears shining in her blue eyes. “Let’s go.”
They rode back to the bowling alley in silence. He reached across the console, took her hand in his, and squeezed it.
“Are you off tomorrow night?” Becca asked him as she pulled in beside his bike and shifted into park.
“I work until seven.”
“Let me cook you dinner.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Okay. Good night.” He slid out of the car, mounted his bike and rode away without another word.
Chapter 5
Becca worked on her audition lines in her sister’s studio and looked up recipes online. Abe had said his name was German, so she decided to impress him with some authentic food from his ancestral home. She settled on red cabbage soup and some kind of noodle thing called spaetzle. She figured she could eat the soup—there even used to be a cabbage soup diet back in the old days, so it must be reasonably healthful. He could have the leftover noodles for his lunch the next day. It made her feel positively wifely, planning a special meal to surprise him.
Becca made a grocery list, taking careful note to get things like caraway seeds and a pound of flour. She had thought you measured flour by tablespoons, but the noodle recipe called for a pound. She looked up the conversion and found out she was making enough spaetzle for fifteen people. Not a confident enough chef to halve the recipe,
Becca resigned herself to making a crapload of German egg noodles and headed for the market. She forced herself to stay away from the hummus and the kale chips—now was not the time to indulge! —and focus on the ingredients she needed to seduce Harrison Abrahemson with a good meal. She found herself wanting to take care of him, make sure he got enough wholesome food to eat and such. Becca was a nester, and he brought out all her sappiest impulses. The man had a high-stress job and he needed a break, needed to let someone help him. She knew in her heart that she was exactly the person to convince him of that.
Once she’d mixed up enough disgusting eggy dough to make approximately seventeen bajillion noodles, she started slicing them and putting them on to boil. While they were cooking, she figured she could shower and get ready. Those little German bitches boiled over and made a huge mess in Hannah’s previously unused kitchen.
Becca was trying not to gag from the sweaty-socks-stink of cooking cabbage while cleaning up the swamp of overcooked noodles, clad only in a towel. That was when Abe knocked on the door. She muttered imprecations as she made her way to the front door and turned the knob, leaving a floury smear on the door.
“Is this a bad time?” He chuckled, taking in her coils of wet hair, the towel that seemed both insufficient to its task of concealment and determined to slide off, and the wad of what might have been pasta in one hand and the roll of paper towels under her arm.
Abe stood in the doorway, a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad. She sighed, unequal to the task of greeting him cheerily in such a mess.
“Have a seat,” she said peremptorily, and returned to the kitchen end of the room to continue wiping up.
Abe came up behind her, setting his flowers and wine on the counter and taking the paper towels.
“I can do this.”
“Really?” she asked hopefully.
“Really. Go get ready. I know it’s driving you nuts that I got here before you were ready,” he said kindly.
Becca dashed back to the bathroom and dried her hair, curled her eyelashes, and donned a yellow sundress scattered with tiny blue blossoms. It looked
“That has to be so hard for you,” she said, her voice warm with an agony of compassion, quick tears shining in her blue eyes. “Let’s go.”
They rode back to the bowling alley in silence. He reached across the console, took her hand in his, and squeezed it.
“Are you off tomorrow night?” Becca asked him as she pulled in beside his bike and shifted into park.
“I work until seven.”
“Let me cook you dinner.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Okay. Good night.” He slid out of the car, mounted his bike and rode away without another word.
Chapter 5
Becca worked on her audition lines in her sister’s studio and looked up recipes online. Abe had said his name was German, so she decided to impress him with some authentic food from his ancestral home. She settled on red cabbage soup and some kind of noodle thing called spaetzle. She figured she could eat the soup—there even used to be a cabbage soup diet back in the old days, so it must be reasonably healthful. He could have the leftover noodles for his lunch the next day. It made her feel positively wifely, planning a special meal to surprise him.
Becca made a grocery list, taking careful note to get things like caraway seeds and a pound of flour. She had thought you measured flour by tablespoons, but the noodle recipe called for a pound. She looked up the conversion and found out she was making enough spaetzle for fifteen people. Not a confident enough chef to halve the recipe,
Becca resigned herself to making a crapload of German egg noodles and headed for the market. She forced herself to stay away from the hummus and the kale chips—now was not the time to indulge! —and focus on the ingredients she needed to seduce Harrison Abrahemson with a good meal. She found herself wanting to take care of him, make sure he got enough wholesome food to eat and such. Becca was a nester, and he brought out all her sappiest impulses. The man had a high-stress job and he needed a break, needed to let someone help him. She knew in her heart that she was exactly the person to convince him of that.
Once she’d mixed up enough disgusting eggy dough to make approximately seventeen bajillion noodles, she started slicing them and putting them on to boil. While they were cooking, she figured she could shower and get ready. Those little German bitches boiled over and made a huge mess in Hannah’s previously unused kitchen.
Becca was trying not to gag from the sweaty-socks-stink of cooking cabbage while cleaning up the swamp of overcooked noodles, clad only in a towel. That was when Abe knocked on the door. She muttered imprecations as she made her way to the front door and turned the knob, leaving a floury smear on the door.
“Is this a bad time?” He chuckled, taking in her coils of wet hair, the towel that seemed both insufficient to its task of concealment and determined to slide off, and the wad of what might have been pasta in one hand and the roll of paper towels under her arm.
Abe stood in the doorway, a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad. She sighed, unequal to the task of greeting him cheerily in such a mess.
“Have a seat,” she said peremptorily, and returned to the kitchen end of the room to continue wiping up.
Abe came up behind her, setting his flowers and wine on the counter and taking the paper towels.
“I can do this.”
“Really?” she asked hopefully.
“Really. Go get ready. I know it’s driving you nuts that I got here before you were ready,” he said kindly.
Becca dashed back to the bathroom and dried her hair, curled her eyelashes, and donned a yellow sundress scattered with tiny blue blossoms. It looked
Similar Books
