She loaded the last of the food into the fridge, trying hard not to think about Richard. Trying not to wonder how you could go from smiling together at your new baby to dividing up weekends and holidays. “I made lemon chicken, which you can heat up and eat with rice. I noticed you had some in the cupboard. Also a roasted vegetable tart that you can have with salad. I made some poppy seed bread rolls this morning, so I’ve put a couple on the side for you. At least you won’t starve for the next couple of days.”

“Where have you been all my life?” He fastened the buttons on his shirt. He didn’t seem in any hurry to get back to his work. “Is it hard for you when she’s away?”

Milly closed the fridge door. She was tempted to spill out the truth, but the last thing he needed was to hear about her problems and worries. Overthinking was one thing, but oversharing was something she tried to avoid. “It’s fine. I get time to myself, and that’s a treat.”

“Time you spend waiting on other people and staying busy.” He watched her for a moment. “Will that delicious-sounding chicken keep until tomorrow?”

“Yes. I made it fresh this morning.” She pulled a box out of the other bag. “And I brought you a slice of my chocolate fudge cake.”

“I think I might be falling in love with you.”

She knew he was joking, but still his comment made her heart pound a little harder. “You should probably taste it before you make the final decision.”

He put the towel over the back of the chair. “What’s your favorite food? Does anyone ever cook for you?”

“Cook for me? No. I mean, Zoe helps. She loves cooking too. It’s something we do together.”

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Dinner? She was so surprised she almost dropped the box containing the thick wedge of chocolate cake.

Why was he asking her? Because he felt guilty that she was cleaning his cabin at a weekend? Because he felt he needed to pay her back for the food? Her mind spiraled through the options.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, having tasted the quality of your food I’m not offering to cook for you. I’d be too nervous of scaring you away.” He gave a wry smile. “I was thinking a restaurant. A good one, so that you’re not sitting there thinking you can make something better at home. You have more than your fair share of fine dining establishments around here.”

“That’s a kind offer, but you don’t have to do that.” She was embarrassed that he thought he should. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought him food. In trying to make his life a little easier, she’d overstepped.