They both stepped back from each other at the same time.
Brandon cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but it felt like he should.
“No, you’re fine,” Yannick said. The typically Texan phrase of forgiveness sounded charmingly exotic with his accent, though he seemed purposely keeping his gaze off Brandon as he said it.
Brandon took a breath, looking around at the counter. “One thing I’ll never get, though, is why something so simple always makes such a mess. Help me clean up?”
“Of course. You don’t need to ask,” Yannick said, but when he reached for the leftover ingredients Brandon was alarmed by how badly his hands were shaking.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” Brandon took the open bag of walnut pieces out of his hand and put it back on the counter. Mixing ing
