beans and ham tomorrow. And fried potatoes.”
She nodded because all the words in her head were suddenly gone. Only two layers of denim separated her knees from Creed’s. The steaming bowl of soup in front of her was actually cold compared to the heat generated between them.
Then he shifted his chair and it was gone.
She moved her knee a little, couldn’t hook up with his, and was searching under the table for his leg when she realized what she was doing. She jerked her hand back faster than if she’d touched a hot iron, and high color blazed in her cheeks.
Whoa, hoss! You’ve got to slow this buggy down. Four days, Sage Presley, and have you forgotten this is the man who’s going to buy the ranch? You are supposed to hate him and discourage him from wanting to live in the canyon.
She blew on a spoonful of soup. But maybe he could work for Lawton and I could still see him. There are other small ranches in the canyon that he could buy.
She realized she wanted to have her cake sitting all pretty on the table and eat a big chunk of it too. Life didn’t work that way. Either preserve the past and keep the cake, or get a knife and slice into it.
“Hey, what are you thinking about? It looks like you’ve got a war going on in your head,” Creed said from across the table.
“Whether to buy Noel a pink or red sweater. Since it is Christmas and she does have a holiday name, I was thinking red. What do you think?” she joked to keep from spitting out what she’d really been thinking about.
“Ask her. She’s the one who’ll have to wear it,” Creed said.
“How old are you?” Sage asked bluntly.
“I might ask you the same thing, but a gentleman never asks a woman about her age or weight.”
“I was twenty-six in September. I went to college for two years, came home, and started painting full time, sold a few, and then got a fantastic break when my professor dropped my name to a gallery owner in Denver. What I weigh is between me and the bathroom scales, and if they ever start talking, I will take the hammer to them. Your turn.”
Creed laid his spoon down. “I was twenty-eight on the first day of October. I have a bachelor’s degree in agricultural business. All I’ve ever known is ranching and farming. Like you already know, I was engaged once, and I’ve sworn off permanent relationships. What about your love life, Sage?”
“I love painting. Seems that men have this crazy notion that I’ve got commitment issues.”
“Imagine that.”
Sage didn’t want to talk about the big, dark C word, so she changed the subject. “Don’t eat too much. You’ll want to save room for ice cream, and besides, Noel looks like she’s still hungry.”
“That’s the first step toward a mink-lined bed in the corner. Feeding the dog,” he quoted the last word with two fingers on each hand in the air, “the good stew and going hungry yourself.”
“The bathroom scales would argue with you that I’m not about to waste away to nothing,” she said.
“I think you are just right, Sage. Matter-of-fact, my Grandpa Riley had a way of describing a woman like you.”
Sage didn’t know if she wanted to hear what his grandpa would say about a woman who was too tall and who was too hippie and whose smile looked like a dental chart (compliments of a remark made by Triston Jones in the fourth grade).
“Well, do you want to hear it or not?” Creed asked.
She nodded even though she was telling her head to go back and forth, not up and down.
“He would have said that you were built like a redbrick shit house without a brick out of place.” Creed smiled.
She jerked her head up to lock gazes with him across the table.
“Thank you, I think.”
“It’s a compliment, I promise.”
“Maybe so, but it won’t keep me from talking Grand out of selling the ranch, and that’s a fact.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. His knee settled against hers under the table at the same time.
“I meant what I said. You are beautiful. Whether I own the ranch or not, it doesn’t make you any less gorgeous,” he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Then his knee was gone and his hand left hers.
He picked up his spoon and started eating stew again, changing the subject and talking between bites. “I haven’t