True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,35
about sweaty sex?”
“No. No, I didn’t.” His voice grew husky. “But I’m thinking about it, now. Is that why you were looking at me like you wanted to strip me naked?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was ready to let you.”
“Except you were attached to a box.”
“Yes, ma’am. Would’ve made things awkward.” His chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “Eva, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.”
“There you go, talking dirty again.”
He smiled. “You’re not helping.”
She opened her mouth to give him a sexy comeback. Closed it again. “You’re right, I’m not. I apologize. I’ll go start on the chili for our lunch. Let me know when you’re ready for your iced coffee and a cinnamon roll.”
“Thanks. Like I said, about ten minutes. Maybe a little longer.”
“See you then.” She turned away from his hot self, walked into the kitchen and started preparing the chili. What a crazy situation she’d landed herself in. She wasn’t sorry. Just… confused.
Only days ago she’d had Nick in her chair as they’d discussed the bachelor auction and his part in it. She’d only wanted boxes moved and stones dug up. Simple. Straightforward. Not so simple and straightforward anymore, was it?
He took a little longer than ten minutes. The chili was simmering on a back burner by the time he walked into the kitchen.
He breathed deep. “Smells great.”
“Thank you.” She laid a wooden spoon in the spoon rest on the stove. “How soon would you like to have lunch?”
“No rush. Okay if I wash up at the sink?”
“You bet. I’ll get our iced coffee.”” His every move appealed to her. She longed to touch him, but evidently they were a combustible combo and she needed to curb that urge, at least for now.
She put ice in two tall glasses and added coffee from the carafe in the fridge. After transferring them to the table, she placed a cinnamon roll on a plate and got him a fresh napkin.
“Will you split that with me?”
She turned to him in surprise. “Why?”
“Because I enjoy the taste, but I don’t want a whole one.”
She frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Never better.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t pushed you to drink water. You could be dehydrated.”
“I’m not. When I picked up the gloves and a rag from the truck, I brought in my jug. I know better than to go without water in hot working conditions.”
“Good. I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of that. I should have offered you water from the get-go.”
He shook his head. “Not your job. I’m your workman, not your guest. It’s up to me to take care of my needs.”
I’d love to take care of your needs. She glanced away, afraid he’d see it in her eyes and they’d be in a pickle again.
“Eva? Did I say something that—”
“Don’t mind me.” She met his gaze. “I have sex on the brain. I never expected this to happen. My friends warned me that a bachelor auction had a sexy vibe. And then you rode in on that horse and… it was like a switch flipped.”
“Yeah?” He looked pleased. “The ride?”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to admit it. I thought this morning I’d be over my sudden infatuation, but instead, it’s worse.”
“Or better, at least from my viewpoint.”
“But I’m interfering with your work.”
His expression gentled. “I love that you want to. But I—”
“You have standards. That turns me on, too.”
“Everything about you turns me on.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Make a plan.” He walked over to the table and pulled out her chair.
“Will it end with us having sex?” She slid into the chair.
He scooted her in. “If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be much of a plan.”
“Then I’m listening.”
Chapter Seventeen
He’d died and gone to heaven. Nick couldn’t stop smiling as he walked to the knife block on Eva’s kitchen counter and pulled out one of the shorter blades for dividing the cinnamon roll. He could level with Eva about the food situation because she was as crazy for him as he was for her. It would be okay.
Taking his seat, he sliced the cinnamon roll in half and pushed the plate so they could both reach it. “Before we make our plan, I have a confession. I ate a big breakfast at the ranch before I drove over here this morning.”
“You were already full?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very much so. Garrett puts on a good spread.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Rafe thought your decision to cook was a sign that you liked me. When I saw how hard you’d worked, I figured you