The Hacker Pushes Her Luck (Moonchuckle Bay 6)(10)

By: Heather Horrocks

“I’m not that good of a cook, but I can fix you a sandwich.”

“I’m a good cook,” she said, and then she caught Walter’s eye. “I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

He smiled and said, “I told you things would start coming back.”

“Do you have some eggs and cheese and onions?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“I can fix us a French omelet.”

“I’m impressed.”

Later, after she fixed the most delicious omelet Walter remembered ever tasting, she said, “So now I know that my name is Jade Monroe, I can play chess, and I can cook.”

“And it’s midnight, Sugar. You can go lay down now. I’ll come in to wake you and check on you in a few hours.”

He showed her to her room, and she settled herself. She changed into some clothes he’d found for her, a big T-shirt and stretchy shorts. If she was going to have a man coming in to wake her up, she wanted to be both comfortable and modest.

Wanted: Schrödinger’s Cat — Dead And Alive!

SUGAR HAD NOT SLEPT WELL the night before. Of course, Walter had woken her twice to check her pupils. Finally, at five, he’d declared her safe and told her to sleep as long as she wanted.

But there was anxiety connected to this whole losing-your-memory thing. Global amnesia is what Dr. Johnson had called it. She’d gone back to sleep about five-thirty and had slept until eight.

Then she’d found herself waving her hand in front of her face — and actually found that her head felt better after she did. One more thing to add to her list of mysteries.

She found a towel on the counter in the bathroom directly off her bedroom, and a note: Good morning. I’ve had my friend’s wife bring over some clothes she thought would fit you. I’ll have breakfast ready for you, though you may wish you’d gotten to the kitchen before me. I’m not very good at the cooking thing. Walter.

She smiled and lifted a pretty yellow sundress. When she got to the lacy underwear — in her size — she was glad a woman had brought them over, but had to wonder — how did he know her size?

She’d worry about that later — along with everything else.

The shower woke her, and the clothes perked her up. The yellow lit up her complexion and complemented her dark auburn hair. She checked the side of her head.

The bump had gone down significantly, and it barely hurt this morning. That was weird, too.

She left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. She found Walter in the adjacent dining room, wearing an apron that declared Chemistry Is Like Cooking — But Make Sure Not To Lick the Spoon.

She smiled at the handsome man wielding a wooden spoon in one hand and wearing an oven mitt on the other. “Cute,” she said, though perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say to one’s new boss. But it was true.

“The bump on your head looks like it’s nearly gone.”

She nodded, which barely hurt today. She motioned toward him. “I like the apron.”

Walter chuckled. “My friend’s wife, Mara, gave me this. It was about the same time that she told me people shouldn’t lick the spoon on my regular cooking, either.”

“I doubt that.”

“If it turns out to be too horrible, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or order in, if you don’t feel up to going out yet.”

“I actually feel pretty good today.”

He breathed out in relief. “Good. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You are most welcome, lass. I asked Dr. Johnson to stop by today and check on you again.” He scooped out something from a pan he’d pulled from the oven.

“How many aprons do you have?”

“Two. This one and one that says Wanted: Schrödinger’s cat — Dead and Alive!”

“The thought experiment?”

“I’m impressed with your knowledge.”

“If not my memory,” she shot back.

He chuckled. Setting a plate before her at the table, he said, “Breakfast casserole. I texted Mara for the recipe for that, too.”

He stood back and waited anxiously for her to taste it.

She laughed. “If you’re that worried, maybe I should request a food taster.”