Page 17 of The Rancher’s Bride

“I know how to cook.”

“That remains to be seen.”

She points the spoon at me. “Go shower.”

I ought to remind her it’s my house. Instead I go. By the time I come back downstairs, she’s set the table. The flowers are still in the middle, and the stew is steaming in two bowls.

I take a bite. Then another.

Sabrina watches me. “Well?”

“It’s decent.”

She stares at me.

“Fine,” I admit. “It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Don’t push it.”

She smiles and starts eating.

Dinner is easier than the others have been. We still argue about the amount of salt I add and whether bread belongs in the bowl or beside it, but neither of us gets mad enough to leave. Afterward, we wash the dishes together. She washes because she claims I don’t use enough soap. I dry because apparently there’s a wrong way to stack wet plates.

We play cards for a while, then sit on the porch as the sky darkens. The air is cool, and when Sabrina rubs her hands over her arms, I debate whether to go inside for a blanket.

But then she stands, ready to go inside. “Thank you for today. I liked going into town, and the flowers were thoughtful.”

I shrug. “You said you liked that kind of thing.”

“I do.”

She smiles at me. It’s not a teasing smile, not a guarded one. Just warm.

“Goodnight, Damian.”

“Night.”

I watch her go inside, then stay on the porch, hoping some time alone will clear my head. But it doesn’t help. An hour later, I’m flat on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

I can’t stop thinking about her.

Her curvy legs in those jeans. The way she looked at me over the flowers. The fact that she’s sleeping twenty feet away and I’m apparently supposed to act like that doesn’t matter.

Impossible.

I throw back the covers and head downstairs for a drink.

The kitchen light is already on. Sabrina stands at the counter with her back to me, wearing a sleep shirt that stops halfway down her thighs. Her legs are bare. Her hair hangs loose. She has my whiskey bottle tilted over a glass.

She turns at the sound of my footsteps and nearly spills the drink. “You scared me.”

“I walked into the room.”

“You could make some noise.”

“Stomp?”