True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,23
and two heaping spoons of fruit salad. Then she paused. “One cinnamon roll or two?”
“One is fine.”
“You’re just being polite. I’ll only eat one of these. You can have the other five.”
“I would never take more than my share.”
“Please don’t hold back on my account. They’re best when they’re fresh. When I make them for myself, they go stale before I can finish them. Unlike you, I don’t have a huge appetite.”
“Must drive you nuts when you have them go stale.”
“Believe me, it does. I want these eaten ASAP. I’ll leave the dish on the counter so you can help yourself to any you don’t eat now.”
“I…” His breath hitched. “That’s very generous.”
“Sure you don’t want two?”
“Just one, thanks. If I’m going to start at eight, we need to go fetch your truck soon.”
“I guess that start time really is important to you.” She dished herself.
“The sooner I start, the sooner I’ll be out of your way. I intend to give you twelve hours, one way or another.”
“I can’t gauge how long either of these jobs will take. Maybe you’ll have all the stuff out of the attic by ten, which leaves you a whole bunch of time to dig up the rocks. If you’re as efficient as Rafe says, that won’t take long, either.” She ate a bite of the casserole because clearly he was waiting for her to start.
He dug into his, popped a forkful into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Very good. Excellent.”
“Thanks.”
He forked up another bite. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do if I finish early? I’ll bet you could come up with something.” He’d said it straight-faced, without a wink or a knowing smile.
Clearly last night’s moment on the porch hadn’t translated to flirting today. “I probably could. It’s an old house.”
“And a big house. How many rooms?”
“Eight if you count the attic, nine if you count the enclosed back porch. Three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, kitchen, living room and dining room downstairs. Eventually I’ll add another bathroom when I can afford it.”
“Any dripping faucets or leaking pipes? Old plumbing can be dicey.”
“Why? Do you have a plumber’s license?”
He smiled at that. “No.”
There was that great smile again. Made her catch her breath.
“That said, I’m fairly handy.” He speared a slice of kiwi. “Working on a guest ranch, especially one that’s been around a while, you learn things out of necessity. Henri and Charley taught us basic skills so we could deal with minor repairs in the guest cabins.”
“In that case, I’m sure I can come up with enough things to keep you busy. Of course we’ll be taking time out for lunch and dinner. I insist on that.” She picked up her cinnamon roll. “How do you like the kiwi?”
“It’s good. Glad I got to try it. But you know, after this wonderful and filling breakfast, I won’t need any lunch.” He tucked back into his casserole.
“I don’t believe that for a minute. While you’re bringing things down from the attic, I’ll put together a pot of chili. I like making cornbread to go with it. I usually top the chili with cheese. Do you like it that way?”
“I do, but seriously, why not save the chili for dinner and skip lunch? This is a big breakfast, and if I’m going to be snacking on cinnamon rolls all day, then—”
“Are you worried that I’m putting too much effort into feeding you?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s it, exactly.”
“Then you can help me make dinner.”
“Of course I’d be glad to help.”
Judging from his expression, he wasn’t entirely happy with the meal program she’d laid out. Made sense. Just because he loved to eat didn’t mean he was comfortable having her spend extra time in the kitchen. And it was a hot day.
She shifted her plan from a roast in the oven to steaks on the grill. “Tell you what. We’ll cook out tonight—grill steaks and corn, roast the potatoes in the coals. Oh, and I have pie from the Apple Barrel for dessert. With ice cream.”
“Sounds great.” He paused, the cinnamon roll halfway to his mouth. “But it sure is a lot of food.”
“Maybe for some people, but not you. You’re famous for your appetite.”
He gave her another of those great smiles. “Yes, ma’am. That’s a fact.” And he bit into the roll.
Chapter Eleven
Nick managed not to groan as he followed Eva up the narrow stairs to the attic. Against his better judgment, he’d eaten a second cinnamon roll because she’d looked disappointed when