Spaghetti
and The Sentence
“What about you?” Clint asked, his
face filled with curiosity. “Do you like to cook?”
Rachel preened and knew it. She
was proud of her culinary skills. “I do okay,” she assured him.
“Oh, yeah?” Challenge lit Clint’s
eyes. “Cook something for me and prove it.”
“You don’t think I can?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Rachel scowled. “No, but you
hinted at it.”
Clint just stood there with a
faint smile on his handsome face, so Rachel picked up the gauntlet he had
thrown down. “Okay, I will. I’ll cook dinner for you tomorrow night.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Had she totally lost her mind? Why
had she done that? She didn’t have to prove anything to Clint Hayes. Well, it
was too late to cancel now. If she didn’t cook the stupid dinner for him, he’d
think she couldn’t.
She stormed back to the house
where she belonged and slammed the door behind her. “Goodness,” her mother
exclaimed. “What’s got you in such a snit?”
“Clint!”
Mrs. Amos turned to Rachel and set
her coffee down. “What did he do?”
“He manipulated me into cooking
dinner for him tomorrow night.”
A faint smile crossed her mother’s
face. “And how did he do that in such a short time?”
“He insinuated I don’t know how to
cook.”
Mrs. Amos took a seat at the
kitchen table. “Sit down with me, Rachel.”
Rachel pulled a chair out and
joined her mother. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Honey, you be careful with
Clint.”
