minutes hadn’t happened. He was more than willing to oblige.
He stood and, leaving as much distance between them as the cramped quarters allowed, approached the ingredients she’d laid out. Two kinds of bread, three varieties of lunch meat, precut slices of pepper jack cheese, a platter of fresh veggies, half a dozen jars of condiments and a giant bag of potato chips.
“It looks like a gourmet sandwich shop in here.”
“Sandwiches are the closest thing to gourmet we get around here. Cooking’s not my strong suit.”
Hello, opening! He tried not to smirk, but man, she’d just lobbed a big, fat conversational softball right over the heart of the plate. Playing it cool, he casually leaned one hip against the counter. “Then what is your strong suit?”
An uneasy look flickered across her face. She fidgeted, as if she wanted to put more distance between them, but she held her position. He liked that about her. She didn’t back down.
“Well, I’m good with people. Animals love me. And I’m a crack shot.”
That last comment was a bit unnerving, but Kyle refused to back off. “All very fine recommendations, but what’s the one thing you do better than anything else?”
“That’s an intriguing question.” She drummed her fingers against her chin, her eyes studying the kitchen’s ceiling. “Oh! I’ve got it.” She snapped her fingers. Her relaxed, friendly grin returned, stretching ear to ear. “I’m fantastic at making kids smile.”
“How is that a skill?”
“Children often pay the highest price for their parents’ mistakes. They can lose their trust in grown-ups. By winning back a little of that trust and making them smile, I can restore some normalcy to their chaotic lives. That’s why I studied social services, so I can help kids who were dealt a raw deal in the parental lottery.”
Ah, now this was something he could work with. “Not a very lucrative career choice.”
“I’m sure I can scrape by. Besides, money’s not as important to me as doing something worthwhile with my life.”
“All the more reason for you to have a long-range savings plan. A million dollars would make a cozy nest egg.”
Her quick wit showed in the simple, cocky way she arched her eyebrows. “Careful there, counselor. I’d hate for you to break the ground rules and end up sleeping outside.”
Knowing when to push and when to back off, he waved his hands in mock protest before gathering up the cheese and lunch meat. “I’m just making conversation.”
“More like
He shrugged. “Force of habit.”
“I’d call it compulsive behavior.” She grabbed the platter of veggies and followed him to the table. “So, how about you? What’s your strong suit?”
Knowing that much honesty wouldn’t win him any brownie points, he returned to the counter and gathered up the remaining sandwich makings before giving a less specific answer. “Talking people into seeing things my way.”
“Guess that’s why you decided to become a lawyer, huh?”
“Actually, I didn’t really hone my communication skills until after college.”
“So then why
“I wanted to make a lot of money.”
“Really? I kind of figured you grew up with money.”
“Hardly.” He snorted. Her brows crinkled, but he damned sure didn’t want her to continue on that track, so he quickly followed with, “Lower middle class. Money never went far enough.”
It was a true statement but not exactly an honest answer to her unasked question.
“So, if your goal was to be rich, why not become a doctor or an accountant or an investment banker or a rock star or any of a hundred other jobs that don’t have such a negative reputation? Why law?”
He had to give the lady points for intelligence. And perseverance. She’d seen right through his flimsy excuse, and he was sure she’d peck at him till she found the truth. She’d have made a great attorney.
Might as well reward her with a slice of the truth.
“As a kid, I was a bit of a runt and always seemed to get the short end of the stick, so I decided early on that I wanted to be powerful and influential enough to ensure I always came out on top.”
“And do you?”
“Most of the time.”
“Huh.” That single grunted syllable sounded very confused, and he expected more questions. Instead, she began building herself a massive sandwich.
He followed suit, all the while conscious of her mind still silently working its way through something. He knew her curiosity wasn’t yet satisfied. What he didn’t know was whether she would pursue more answers.
Halfway through the meal, she put her sandwich down and turned cautious eyes on him.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
More personal than the ones she’d already asked? Hell, that could be dangerous. “You can ask, but I can’t promise to answer.”
She pursed her lips and nodded sagely, as if she understood that some subjects were too tender for words.
“With all your success, do you ever still feel like that little runt who was always getting picked on?” Though she’d asked about him, he knew the hurt little kid she worried about was herself.
Damn, he wanted to toss out a glib response about how he’d buried that pathetic kid decades ago and never thought twice about him anymore, but the raw emotion in her voice and the way her teeth gnawed on her lower lip made it impossible for him to be anything less than truthful.
“As much as I wish I could tell you that my adult successes have vanquished my inner runt, I can’t. The poor squirt still pops up every now and then.”
She released a heavy breath and picked up her sandwich again, but didn’t take a bite. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Half an hour later, Shayna feared her nerves would burst through her skin as she stared at the wintry outlook. Zero percent chance of sunshine for the next two days, a fifty-fifty chance the temperature would creep above freezing sometime Friday afternoon.
The news ended and a car commercial blasted out of her little set. She lowered the volume and twisted on the couch, facing the comfy blue recliner where Kyle sat, the ice pack once again covering his wound.
Seeing him like that threw her mind and her body back to those scorching few minutes in the kitchen. The sight of him sprawled out at her table, looking as if he belonged, had scrambled her brain. For a second she’d forgotten who he was and why he was here. All she’d been able to think about was curling up against that broad, strong chest and kissing the daylights out of him.
Clearing her throat, she nodded toward the whispering television. “It doesn’t look good.”
“It didn’t sound good.” He sat up and laid the ice pack on the coffee table, next to the pieces of her soon-to-be less revealing Ms. Noel costume. “Exactly how long will we be stuck up here, away from civilization?”
“Assuming it doesn’t rain again, just until Saturday.” She plucked up her costume and her sewing kit and settled back into the couch cushions. She needed to get the sleeves and hem tacked up so she could attach the faux fur trim tomorrow.
“Yeah, but by then, the icy road won’t be the main problem. We won’t be able to get back to town till the bridge over Shiner’s Gulch thaws, and that’s going to take above-freezing temps
“You’re telling me a little bad weather and no one can get up or down this blasted mountain. What about emergencies?”
“Usually, if the bridge is impassable, we can get to town the back way, but…well, there was an accident about two miles up the road a few weeks back. Highway department hasn’t gotten it repaired yet.”
Her cheeks warmed as Kyle flashed her a steely look that she bet had caused many a dishonest witness to
