Chapter Sixteen
What in the saints had she been thinking? The thwack of Jamey’s butcher knife resonated across the kitchen as she separated a pheasant wing from its carcass. She’d been up since dark early prepping food. Three days of food for nineteen heads would be a feat without prep help. She scowled and separated the next wing with an extra hard thwack.
Brodie was nothing but a flirt. Clearly, s*x between them had meant nothing. Not only had he avoided her entirely since their crazy encounter, but Mr. Host with the Most had turned on the sugar with the female guests as they’d arrived this afternoon. He was gifted. She’d grant him that. He could charm the panties off a snow queen in winter.
Jamey kept forcefully separating the pheasant wings. Was Brodie the popover she’d accused him
