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Her eyes widened, and she almost stumbled as she held the pot.
Roman hurried forward, hoping she wasn’t going to drop whatever it was and burn herself.
But Cara, ever the professional, recovered and set the pot on the rubber pad on the counter. Then she lifted her hands and pulled out her earbuds. “Hey. Didn’t see you there.”
Her voice was breathless, her light pink lips a darker color in the heat of the kitchen, and the tendrils of hair framing her forehead were damp from the steam coming off the pot.
“Sorry I startled you,” he said, crossing to the counter. “Are you all right? Did you burn yourself?”
Cara set her earbuds on the counter. “Oh no. I’m fine. See?” She held up both hands. “It’s just water anyway.”
“Boiling water,” Roman observed.
“Yeah, well, I’m making some Christmas gelatin layers.” She picked up the pot again and poured a portion of the hot water into one of the plastic bowls. The water immediately turned a cherry red. Then she poured the rest of the water into the second bowl, which turned a bright green. “If you’re not doing anything, stir one of these?”
He was so surprised, he said nothing for a second.
“Or not?”
Roman reached for the wooden spatula she held toward him. “Sure. No problem. I was just trying to catch up to what you’re fixing here. Christmas gelatin layers?”
“You know, Jell-O?” Cara smirked.
She began stirring the red mixture, and Roman tried to follow her pace and strokes with the bowl of green.
“Huh. Okay.”
“You’ll see,” Cara said. “And you’ll love it. So will Mia.”
Roman nodded, his gaze straying more than once to her. “You aren’t worried about getting your shirt stained? Don’t chefs usually wear aprons?”
Cara’s brows popped up, and she looked down at her snowy-white shirt. “Jell-O stirring isn’t usually hazardous. But it’s nice that you’re so astute.”
Roman stopped stirring. “Is it?”
“Keep stirring,” she said without missing a beat. “Yeah, most guys don’t care what the chef wears. They just want their food.”
Roman laughed at this, then he quieted down. He didn’t want to alert Lila or Thayne, or even Jerry, since he liked this alone time with Cara.
“I like my food, too, but I guess I’ll accept your compliment.”
Cara didn’t answer, but her mouth curved into smile.
Roman tried to refocus on his Jell-O stirring, but his gaze strayed again. “What was the music?”
She met his gaze, her blue eyes assessing him. “Music?”
“You know—what you were dancing to?”
She reached for her phone and turned on a slow-moving country song.
“Country, huh?”
“Yeah . . . Can’t get it out of my blood, I guess. And it’s kind of fitting here in Wyoming, too.”
“I have no problem with country,” Roman said.
Cara left the music on, and as the next song came on, a sappy love song about a cowboy crooning for his lost love, he started to chuckle.
