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“A smoker.” She frowned. “I need to do something to set my ribs apart, and so far, my last two batches of sauce have turned out too sweet. What are you doing here?” She looked up, more confused than annoyed, which I guessed was some kind of relief. Or not. “Well?”
“I haven’t heard from you in a few days and figured you might need some help. Guess I was right.”
She shrugged off my words. “I had it. That shelf was just a little higher than I remembered, and I didn’t want to go back inside for my stepstool. I hate having to drag it back to the house again after I’m done using it. I should probably just get another stool for the shed, but I always forget to put it on my list.”
“You’re babbling. You could have just said thanks.”
Reese’s brown gaze narrowed in my direction. “Pretty sure I already did. Anyway, I don’t need any help today. I’m just testing a few techniques to see which works best. When I need a helper, I’ll let you know.”
A helper? “Did you seriously just call me your helper?”
Her lips twitched. “Would you prefer sous chef? I mean, I guess I could call you that, but my sous chef requires a lot less supervision.”
Okay, she was laughing—that was good. “She’s not my girlfriend. Or anything, really, I mean. Kind of a sometimes colleague.” That was cool and smooth right, and not the verbal train wreck it sounded like from my end?
She held up a hand and waved it between us. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”
I knew that trick and I refused to fall for it. “You mean, you’re fine with me kissing you and then turning around to leave with another woman? Good to know.” This woman was completely unbelievable.
She let out a growl and it was sexier than it should have been, considering the fact that her brown eyes were “spittin’ mad,” as they liked to say down here in Texas.
“All I mean is that the kiss was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened, so it doesn’t matter who that woman is to you. If someone is owed an explanation, it isn’t me.” Her arms were folded across her chest now, but she didn’t look vulnerable, she looked defensive. Giving off clear “fuck off” vibes. “But thank you for stopping by with an explanation. It was thoughtful and unexpectedly appreciated.” That little ghost of a smile hit me right in the gut with the force of a linebacker. It was soft and sweet and feminine. Sexy as hell.
And there was no way I was letting her try to give me the brush off. Again. “It wasn’t. A mistake, I mean. The kiss. It wasn’t a mistake, Reese.”
She shook her head, blond waves falling all around her shoulders and down her back as she attempted to lift the smoker. “You don’t have to say that, Jackson. It was a mistake, just a ‘in the heat of the moment’ kind of thing from being in such close quarters all day. It happens.”
“To you? You and Rafe, maybe?” Yeah, I sounded like a jealous freak—I knew it, too, but I was powerless to stop myself.
“Me and Rafe? Yeah, right. Anyway, that’s beside the point.” She tried one more time to pick up the smoker before I hip-checked her out of the way and picked the damn thing up.
“Right behind you,” I told her, pressing pause on the steam she’d worked up judging by the gold fire glittering in her eyes. I enjoyed the brief silence as well as the view, the sway of her hips and ass as she angrily marched up the steps and into her kitchen.
“The point is,” she began, turning on me and pointing a finger in my direction, “it happened, sure, but it shouldn’t have.”
“Why?” That was the part I didn’t get. It was obvious we were attracted to each other, and this weekend proved that we could carry on hours of conversation without missing a beat. So, what was it about me she found so objectionable?
“Because. We’re just not right for each other, Jackson.” She turned away and went to the fridge, pulling out four big silver trays stacked with spice-coated ribs.
I stepped in close, but not too close. “We might be,” I countered, because I had a feeling that whatever it was holding her back, it wasn’t personal.
“We’re not,” she insisted, taking one step back and then another until she was trapped in the corner of her massive kitchen.
“I can prove you wrong,” I told her honestly. And a little smugly.
Reese nodded. “I never denied being attracted to you, Jackson. Obviously, that’s the case, but that’s it and that’s not what I’m looking for.”
“And you know what I’m looking for, is that right?” I held her face gently and let my fingers sift through her long blond hair. It was just as silky as I remembered, and when she tilted her head back and her pink lips parted, I was powerless to do anything but taste her.
