Page 102 of Spurred On

“Good.”

“But we’re definitely getting dessert,” she said.

His pout morphed into a dimple-spattered grin. “Excellent.”

It was a pleasant, relaxing lunch. They ate in silence most of the time, but when they talked, the conversation was light and amusing. Cody made her laugh, laugh so hard her stomach ached. More than once he caused her to spit take. She suspected he waited until she had a mouth full of water before he dropped a punchline.

So it was his own fault she sprayed him.

They’d finished lunch and were working on dessert—cheesecake for her and berry cobbler for him, though they each made it a point to sneak a taste or two from the other’s plate—when Cody brought up Claire’s offer.

“My sister says you’re thinking about staying in town,” he said with a quick glance at her.

“Mmm.”

“And she said you might need a job.”

She fiddled with her napkin. “I might.”

“Have you thought about working at the ranch?”

“I have . . . but what do you think about it?” It mattered what he thought. If he didn’t want her around, she would never accept. So it was with bated breath that she awaited his response.

He shrugged and stared down at this cobbler. “I, ah . . .”

Oh shit.

But then he looked up at her and smiled, and her anxiety faded. “I would love it.”

“Would you? Would you really?”

“I would.” His grin widened. “We really need the help, and frankly, I know you would fit in well.”

Her smile faded. Of course. Yeah. Sure. She poked at her cheesecake. “It would be fun, all of us working together.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard work. And sometimes frustrating because you have to please the customers and frankly, they can be difficult. Especially the socialites.”

Her mood dipped lower. Was he trying to talk her out of it? Oh, she hated that idea. She poked her cheesecake again.

His hand settled over hers. “Sidney, what’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything is wrong?”

“You’re mauling your cheesecake.” She glanced at it. It was, indeed, mangled.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

He sighed. “Sidney, you can’t fool me. I can see through you. I know you.”

She glanced at him. He could. He did. She lifted her shoulder. “I was just thinking, perhaps his Nibbs doth protest too much?”

“What?”

“You’re not trying very hard to sell me on the position.”

A flush crept up his cheeks and he forced a laugh. “Seriously? I’m just trying to make sure you understand it’s not all canapes and roses. I wouldn’t want you to get there and think I’m a slave driver.”

“Are you?”