“Ouch. But a broken home? Your parents died.”
“True, but it was more that I didn’t have two dimes to rub together, and they didn’t think I ever would.”
Indignant on Sly’s behalf, she scoffed. “There are lots of college kids who start off poor and end up doing really well. You did. Those people were total snobs.”
“Hey, it was a long time ago. I got over it.” He glanced down at his work shirt and faded jeans, and the corner of his mouth quirked. “If they could only see me now.”
The meal was winding down. Soon Sly could plead fatigue or evening chores and send Lana home. It was what he should’ve wanted. And yet he lingered at the table.
She eyed him curiously. “A nickel for your thoughts.”
Tonight he’d revealed more about himself than most people ever knew, and not only because she’d asked. Because she cared—a lot. Too much. Usually when that happened, he felt hemmed-in, his cue to end things. This time, though, was different. Go figure. Yes, she was carrying their baby, but it was more than that. Not something he wanted to think about.
Time to lighten up. “I was considering asking you to help me clean up this mess,” he teased.
She arched her eyebrows. “That depends, Mr. Pettit, on whether you’re planning to bribe me with the brownies over there on the counter.”
“Mrs. R made them, and they’re killer. Help me with the dishes and you can have as many as you want.”
“For brownies, I’ll do just about anything.”
“Anything?” he drawled, letting his gaze rove slowly over her.
In the silence, desire hung between them in the suddenly thick air.
Lana shifted restlessly in her seat, the sudden blush on her face and hunger in her eyes igniting his desire for her. His body throbbed to life. He had a fair idea what she wanted tonight, but he wasn’t going there—not here. If they’d been at her place, okay. But at his ranch, in his bed? No way.
He cleared his throat and stood. “Let’s get this done.” Fifteen minutes later the leftovers had been stowed in the fridge, the kitchen was clean, and he’d managed to corral his randy libido.
With a smile tugging her lips, she held out her hand. “I’ll take that bribe now.”
He pulled the plastic wrap from the brownie plate. “It’s a nice evening. Let’s have our dessert outside.”
Where the air between them was bound to be cooler.
On the porch, she plunked down on the swing. His swing. He grabbed a brownie for himself, passed the plate to her and then bypassed several porch chairs to sit on the top step, a good fivefeet from her. Able to breathe better now, he sucked in the fresh air.
She frowned. “Why are you sitting on the hard steps when you could be comfier in a chair or sharing this nice, padded swing with me? And hey, in case you didn’t realize, you can’t trust me with these brownies.”
Trust. A rarity in his life. Doing so only led to pain. Lana had always been straight with him, and he sensed she always would be. Which explained why, against his better judgment, he was beginning to trust her.
“I don’t bite, you know,” she added, when he remained silent.
Oh, he knew. He was about to ask her to leave when she spoke.
“I think I’ll have another brownie. They’re so delicious. Who knows, I might finish them all. Then I’ll get sick, and it’ll be your fault for not helping me eat them.”
“Those things are really rich,” he said. “You’ll never be able to eat the whole plate.”
“I’m pregnant, remember?”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“That’s what people tell me.” She patted the seat beside her and smiled serenely.
Sly gave up. “All right.” He ambled over and sat down, keeping the brownie plate between them.
They ate and chatted about this and that, both of them pushing the rocker back and forth in the growing darkness. It would have been really comfortable if a certain part of him wasn’t primed and ready for action.
