11th Hour Rose by Melissa Lynne Blue Read Free Book Online

“Regardless…” He rubbed both palms together. “Where should I begin?”
    “Actually, dinner is nearly finished.” She motioned to the pot simmering on the stove. “I was just going to slice some fresh vegetables.”
    “Allow me.” He drew a knife from the drawer and turned to the wooden cutting slab on the counter.
    “Very well,” she acquiesced granting him a small, playful smile. She stood and ambled to the stove.
    “Would you sit? I am trying to do something nice for you.”
    “You… being nice? Should I be worried?”
    He threw her an exasperated look—which she returned in full measure—and still refused to sit. Lilly sashayed to the stove and lifted the lid on the chicken stew, letting the aroma waft freely through the kitchen. It smelled delicious. Certainly better than anything he’d have scrounged at his own bachelor lodgings. Davy lifted a knife and reached for the basket of vegetables she had waiting on the counter. He lifted a plump tomato.
    “How was your day?” she asked congenially.
    Davy paused for a moment, casting her a sidelong glance. “As well as can be expected,” he replied, taking advantage of her turned back to allow his gaze to linger over her for a moment longer than he ought. She was really quite delectable, disheveled from her day of baking. Red kissed, golden tendrils dripped from her simple bun, gently framing her face and neck, lending a softer look to her typically prim exterior. A rather graceful neck… his eyes drifted lower, across the elegant set of her slender shoulders and down the arch of her waist—he could probably fit his palms all the way around. He gulped, suddenly disconcerted.
    He could still feel her in his arms. Her weight, her warmth… those arms looped around his shoulders… her body pressed against his… He jerked his eyes away from her, quickly stopping the dangerous train of thoughts.
    A book sitting on a chair beside the wall caught his eye. “You’re reading Shakespeare?”
    She glanced up. “Oh, yes, Othello . Have you read it?”
    Smoothly he quoted, “ Then must you speak of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.”
    “Spoken like a true connoisseur. Do you read much Shakespeare?”
    “No, but an instructor of mine at West Point had an annoying habit of quoting lines from the more famous plays. Especially the tragedies.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m not overly fond of tragedies.”
    “Oh?”
    ”I prefer satire. One of Shakespeare’s works I have always liked is Taming of the Shrew. ”
    Lilly flashed him a self-deprecating grin. “And I would be the shrew.”
    Surprised at how she took his meaning, Davy didn’t readily respond.
    “I’d not have thought of that particular work as your favorite,” she continued congenially. “You seem a bit too serious for satire.”
    “Serious?” He laughed. “Not I, Miss Lilly. You see,” he drawled, tossing her a teasing wink, “I find life quite tragic enough without reading tragedy for entertainment. I dearly love to laugh.”
    “Yes, well, I wish you’d do it more,” she quipped.
    The comment struck him into silence. Something in her words pierced straight through the heart, and while it didn’t necessarily hurt , the statement bothered him because she was right. He hadn’t laughed in a very long time. How strange that his good humor had so suddenly resurfaced.
    “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I don’t laugh enough anymore.” He dropped the tomato slices onto a waiting plate and turned, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms casually. “Given the wear of that volume I’d say you read it quite a bit. Which is your favorite play?”
    “ Romeo and Juliet ,” she said without hesitation. “I must have read it one-hundred times.”
    He feigned outrage and clasped a hand over his heart. “A more torturous tale of love and loss has surely never been told. Not to mention that Romeo is without doubt the most fickle hero in