across his tongue, he made a humming sound of approval.
“Thank you,” she answered, just as if he’d spoken.
“Oh, you’re good,” he rumbled, after swallowing.
Another answer that could be taken two ways.
She didn’t meet his eyes but let out a deep breath. “Look, there’s been this . . . tension between us since that first night.” As she glanced at him, her big blue eyes looked determined. “I’m going to be here for a couple weeks, and it’s a small town, and I’m living with your grandmother, and I’ll probably keep bumping into you.” She stopped, as if realizing her mouth was running away with her.
He kind of liked it. She was nervous about him.
“It’s silly for us to . . . go on like this,” she continued. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry I drank too much and let things go too far between us. Regardless of what you might think, I’ve never done anything like that before, and when I realized what I was doing, I had to stop it. I don’t just . . . give myself to a guy I just met.”
He smiled. “ ‘Give’ yourself? That sounds pretty old-fashioned.”
“You know what I mean,” she said with exasperation.
She was watching him, looking anxious and hesitant, as if she cared what he thought. Something inside him eased.
He tipped his hat to her and grinned. “Apology accepted. I feel bad that things have been awkward between us. Regardless of what you might think, I don’t normally drink and proposition women in bars. But you were sitting there so . . .” His voice drifted into a soft rumble.
She was staring at him wide-eyed, fresh and innocent and embarrassed.
“Drunk?” she offered wryly.
“No. Pretty. Pretty and relaxed and funny. I’m a sucker for funny. But I apologize for going too far. I’ve been pretty mad at myself these last couple days for taking advantage.”
She blinked at him. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“For saying no?” He snorted. “Hardly. It wasn’t your fault.”
She smiled at last and kept glancing at him as if she didn’t know whether to believe him.
She stuck out her hand. “Could we start over? I’d like it if we could be friends.”
He slid his hand around hers, noticing how small and fragile it was, that he had to be careful not to squeeze too hard and hurt her.
“Friends,” he said, his voice too husky.
This was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Chapter Seven
Emily knew they were connected too long. His hand was so big and warm and rough from working hard on the ranch every day. His hat shadowed his face in the afternoon sun, but that only made his eyes gleam even greener.
A car slowed down as it went past them, and even that didn’t stop them—until she noticed the twin smirks from the two men in the car, men she’d seen that first night at the tavern. She pulled her hand away.
“Don’t worry about them,” Nate said. “It’s just Ned and Ted Ferguson. Guess plumbing doesn’t keep them amused enough.”
“So you don’t mind being on display for the whole town?” she asked skeptically.
“On display? You make it sound like we’re doing something dirty rather than enjoying the sun.”
“And the mountains,” she said at last, relaxing back on the bench, reluctantly enjoying the sexiness of his drawl. “It’s so beautiful here.”
He took another bite of the apple tart and savored it.
It had seemed like forever since a man had appreciated her cooking. But that memory took her back to her marriage, and she wasn’t going there.
“Nate,” she began, then hesitated. “Just so you know, I’m not interested in dating anyone while I’m here. If you had other ideas, I’ll understand if you don’t keep dropping by.”
He chuckled, exuding all that smoldering sexuality that seemed so unconscious on his part. But she would learn to be unaffected if it killed her. She reminded herself it had taken alcohol to make him respond to her.
“I appreciate honesty in a woman.”
And then he took another bite of her tart. She wasn’t sure he’d agreed to her conditions, but she let it go. It was a tentative, temporary friendship. It wasn’t as if she was tempted to confide in him about her grandmother’s letter. No, that was personal and none of his business. But of course, her mother must have been close to his father to ask for a loan—not the way you’d treat a man you were hiding a pregnancy from, thank God, because the thought