The Construction of Cheer - Liz Isaacson Page 0,22

and turned it on. “Kitchen shears?”

“Probably in one of the drawers,” Arizona said, her attention switched to her phone.

Montana opened all the drawers in the island before she found the kitchen shears, and they looked expensive and like no one ever used them. Lonely things, she thought, and she used them to open the package of bacon while Arizona giggled at something on her phone.

She started looking through cupboards, finding bread and peanut butter. Montana could fry an egg, but she’d rather have peanut butter bacon toast.

“Are you married to having an egg for breakfast?” she asked Arizona.

She looked up from her phone. “No. What are you thinking?” She took in the new ingredients on the countertop. “I’m intrigued.”

“Great.” Montana picked up the shears again and started snipping the strip into smaller bits. She’d made toast with strips of bacon in the past, but it was hard to bite through, and she’d developed a new way of piling on all the bacon she liked and not having to bite so hard to get the saltiness in every bite.

The fat sizzled as it hit the hot pan, and she barely had enough time to get a couple of pieces snipped before she needed to find a pair of tongs and stir things before they burned. She did that, turned down the flame, and got back to snipping.

“What is happening here?”

She looked up to find Bishop pulling a shirt over his head as he walked through the living room. He rounded the couch and came toward her, and he seriously looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“I thought all cowboys rose with the sun,” she said, realizing how flirty she sounded. She tossed a look at Arizona, whose fingers flew across her screen.

“I normally do.” Bishop came into the kitchen and started to pour himself a cup of coffee. “But I’m sort of in a stand-still for today.” He stepped next to her, and it wasn’t fair that he had access to all his toiletries and clothing, and she still only had yesterday’s deodorant and jeans. At least she’d dressed nicely for their “meeting,” though she normally wouldn’t wear a blouse to work the ranch.

“Stand-still?” she asked, glancing up at him briefly as she reached for another chunk of bacon. Snip, snip, snip.

“I’ve never seen someone use scissors to cut bacon,” he said, his voice full of curiosity.

“You’ve obviously never had to use a knife so dull it can’t even cut paper.” She finished with the bacon and looked at him fully. Big mistake, as time froze. Even the scent of bacon and coffee—the two best smells in the whole wide world—disappeared.

There was only Bishop and his gorgeous smile. His light eyes that shone like a spring sky with bright sunlight. His laughter filled her ears, and when he put his hand on her waist, everything in the world rushed forward again.

“You’re right,” he said, still chuckling. “I probably haven’t.”

Montana pulled in a breath at his familiar and yet oh-so-new touch. His hand fell away, and he put a more appropriate distance between them. “What are you making?”

She picked up the tongs and stirred the bacon around the pan, some of it already starting to crisp. This stove was astronomically better than any she’d used before too. “Peanut butter bacon toast.”

He picked up the jar of peanut butter. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I am not,” she said. “I never joke about bacon.”

“Oh yeah? Is that your favorite food?”

“That’s right.” Montana couldn’t allow herself to look directly at him again, so she kept busy by putting four slices of bread into the toaster, just so it would be ready. “You’re not going out on the ranch today?”

“I need to go do an interview in town,” he said. “Then I was going to meet my mother for lunch. Be back here in the afternoon to do a little bit of demo on one cabin that isn’t full of mold. I’m meeting the exterminators at the Ranch House at four.”

“So you don’t need me up here today.” She did look at him then, and he wore a slightly alarmed expression.

“You could come back in the afternoon, after you shower and everything.” He looked down to her bare feet, quickly pulling his eyes back to hers. “If you wanted. But no, your contract starts Monday.”

“Okay,” she said, ducking her head and letting her hair fall over her shoulder. “This only has a few more minutes.” The last of her words got drowned out by Lincoln