Had she been serious? He couldn’t tell with her.Maybe one day he’d get to know her well enough to understand what in the nameof two-for-one tacos had spurred her to pursue that particular line ofquestioning.
In your dreams, Shanny.
He tugged a hand through his mop. Shit,that’s my “tell,” isn’t it?
Besides being off-limits, what would a womanlike her want with a guy like him? She was filet mignon, and he was stew meat.And once Natalie found out who he was? Ground chuck. His stomach lurched at thethought.
“Hey.” Her eyes darted to the back of his head,glimmering with mischief. “You just rubbed flour in your hair.”
“Yeah? Well, you’ve got flour on your nose.” Hetapped the end of her nose, putting flour where it hadn’t been. She crossed hereyes to look down at the spot, pulling a grin from him. “And now you look likeFord,” he said.
With a little headshake, she opened the oven andpulled out a pan covered in foil, replacing it with the cake, then set a timer.
“What’s that?” He pointed at the foil tent.
“The ham dinner my mom brought. Baking’s mything, but overcooking is her thing.”
“Do you bake pies too?”
“Oh yeah. I make a mean peach pie, but I also dobanana chocolate cream, Dutch apple …” She began pulling off her apron, and allhe could do was stand there salivating. God, he lovedpie. And ham. And the sight of her. Andevery smell in the kitchen at that moment—especially hers.
She held her hands out for his apron. “Ready toeat?”
He bit back the X-rated answer vibrating in histhroat, smoothing the apron over his chest instead. “You mean I don’t get tokeep this for being such a great help?”
A little laugh escaped her. “If you insist.”
“Maybe it clashes with the seat cushions.” He pulledit over his head, getting tangled in the ruffles. Up on tiptoe, she helped freehim, then stood back, looking him up and down, wadding the apron in her hands.“You’re a good sport for playing along. And here I thought you were on bad jokealert.”
His hand shot to the back of his head—again—andhe let out a nervous laugh. “Not when I’m the bad joke.”
She arched an eyebrow, after which she pouredwine, lit candles, heaped their plates, and placed a salad and hot rolls on thetable.
He pointed at the side dishes. “I’ve beenstanding here the whole time. When did you make those?”
A little shrug.“While you were standing here the whole time.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “You’re a kitchenninja.” The seat wobbled as she slid into it. “Your chair needs tightening. Ican take care of that.” He took his own seat, a mismatch but sturdier thanhers. “And I’ll go over this one too.”
Could he get used to this? Yeah, he could.
She dropped her napkin in her lap and gave him asmile that lit her eyes. “Wow. I must be doing something right to deserve myvery own handyman.”
You are. You’re breathing. Theytoasted to her repaired lock, and he dug in. He didn’t stop until he heardgroaning and realized it was coming from him. “So good,” he mumbled.
Natalie watched him over the rim of herwineglass. “Your girlfriends must not feed you.”
He stopped mid-chew, thenshook his head. “Not ‘girlfriends’ plural. I’m a one-woman kindaguy.” Clueless as to why, he added, “Although at the moment, I’m a no-woman kinda guy. I just recently broke up with someone. Well,technically, she broke up with me.” What the fuck was wrong withhim? He never divulged this much information, but somehow he couldn’t stopspewing nuggets he normally kept secreted in his vault. If he didn’t watchhimself, he’d hand Natalie the keys to said vault and let her have at it.
Regret stamped itself in her pretty features.“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We weren’t … It was casual.” Alwaysis.
“So,” his mouth trumpeted uncensored, “how aboutyou and your ex-boyfriend? Cody?” Mentally, he patted himself on the back fornot spitting out his food along with the guy’s name. He shoveled in anotherbite and watched her.
Her eyes widened.
“Sorry. None of my business.Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” His own bad memories came roaring athim, and he twitched one side of his mouth in an attempt to lighten the mood,though he suddenly felt heavier than a grounded blimp. Traveling back in hispast always did that to him.
She darted her eyes to the tabletop. “No, it’sokay. I … You caught me off guard.” Candlelightreflected in honey-colored eyes that were shadowed by a melancholy touchingevery feature on her pretty face.
A bolt fired straight to T.J.’s chest, and hecouldn’t decide if it was the thought of her being hurt by someone thatdisturbed him or if it was that someone had gotten close enough to hurt her.
Her eyes delved deep inside him. Did she seeeverything he’d locked away with no intention of ever hauling up again? Hesquirmed inside, but he didn’t look away.
“Were you together long? High schoolsweethearts?” Now he was careening into familiar territory—achinglyfamiliar—and his innards felt as though someone had stuck a fist in them andtwisted. Anger bubbled up.
Do. Not. Say. Your “priorities changed.”
His inner words scratched out harsh tones in hishead, and he struggled to rein himself in. Jesus, get your temper undercontrol. He eased the glare he was pretty sure he was giving her, thoughshe couldn’t have noticed because she’d shifted her eyes to the ceiling as ifthe words she searched for were inked there.
Her gaze landed back on him, scanning, as ifreading some coded information. Did she trust him with her answer? “I need moreCrown. Jameson?”
He declined. “Sticking with water.” Though hedamn sure could’ve used the Jameson.
She rose gracefully and poured herself ameasure.
His heart fell off a high dive. Her look,coupled with her words, doused the flames that had ignited in him.
Ford, who’d been contentedly curled up in herliving room, padded in and laid his head on her lap when she retook her seat.Yeah, T.J. had been about to Hulk out, but somehow this damn cross-eyed dog hadsensed some disturbance in the Force and had acted more human than T.J.
Twitchy as hell, muddled emotions tap-dancing inhis stomach, he rested his fingers on
