Zechariah side-eyed her. Hm. He would have to ply his “have the crazy woman committed” ploy harder to the man of the house.

His gaze landed blandly on the eggs. Ah. Yes. Scrambled and hard boiled eggs for weeks. Maybe he could even rope Benny into cooking instead of doing literally anything that got him out of the cottage and Zechariah’s nose back undisturbed in a book.

“That will do,” he said without so much as pausing. “How much?”