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Ramsey!
She groaned, and the jarring sound of a cleared throat caused her to turn her head toward the dining room. Her eyes locked with Ramsey’s hostile gray ones, and she choked on a mouthful of coffee.
After a bout of flustered coughing, she dared another look. He was sitting in a kitchen chair, watching her intently. Bright sunlight highlighted a deep purple shiner below his right eye.
She swallowed a dismayed groan. “Did I do that?”
“Yup.” He continued to stare at her.
She frowned at his short reply because it gave her no clue what he was thinking. Did he still intend to throw her out? If he did, what could she do about it? Despite her statement to the contrary last night, she certainly didn’t intend to call her father. The fact that she’d been a damned fool where romance was concerned was too bitter a pill to share with her, no doubt, disappointed father.
She felt Ramsey’s inquisitive gaze rake over her flannel pajama-clad body and cringed. She probably looked a sight. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I don’t normally resort to physical violence.”
He shrugged, the corners of his hard mouth kicking up in a tight smile. “Consider it a love tap. Don’t worry. I’ve had worse.”
She studied his rugged features. A faded scar ran across his left cheek, and his slightly crooked nose had probably been broken once or twice. It was apparent he’d been through his share of battles. At least he was dressed today. She wouldn’t have to worry about where to look. But the navy t-shirt he wore clung to his muscular chest. She’d gaze at his eyes instead. He had lovely eyes, eyes a woman could get lost in if she wasn’t careful.
“What about you?” He looked her up and down. “Any after-effects from, as you said, the manhandling I gave you?”
“Just a few bruises.” Her hand moved to rub her aching back and automatically drifted down to touch her bruised behind.
His smile widened. “Where?”
“Not where they’d show.” She hastily withdrew her hand, at a loss as to how to handle his teasing mood. She decided this new side of him would take some getting used to. “So, what are you doing skulking around here and giving me such a rude awakening?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I’m hardly skulking. I’m having a leisurely cup of coffee while breakfast cooks.”
She inhaled the tantalizing aroma, and her stomach let out an audible rumble in anticipation. His smile told her he’d heard. It had been a long time since she’d eaten. She’d just picked at her rehearsal dinner last night, too keyed up to eat. Bridal jitters were a warning sign she should have heeded.
Ramsey slowly got to his feet.
She couldn’t help noticing the jeans he wore fit him like a second skin, giving her unmistakable proof of his masculinity. Embarrassed at her wandering train of thought, she snapped her gaze back to his eyes.
He grinned. “How about I feed you a little breakfast? Afterward, we can talk this little misunderstanding over.”
She brightened at the offer of breakfast, yet still felt the need to clear the air. A thick undercurrent of suspicion remained between them. “What happened last night wasn’t a misunderstanding. You jumped all over me, both verbally and physically.” Glancing at his shiner, she softly admitted, “I suppose I wasn’t much better. Truce?”
“Truce. If we’re living together for a while, you might as well get used to calling me by my first name.”
“Okay, I’ll call you Jake.” She watched him limp to the stove and bit her lip in dismay. Had she kicked him hard enough to do real damage? “Why don’t you let me get it, Jake? After we eat, I’ll take you into town to get your knee seen to. In the meantime, I’ve got some Evening Primrose in my bag. It helps with cramps.”
He cast a startled glance her way. “No thanks. You can keep your herbal stuff. I’m fine. My knee’s gone out on me before. A few days rest will fix it.” He gestured toward the dinette. “Have a seat. Breakfast will be up in a minute.”
She sat down. “What are we having?”
“Cinnamon French toast, one of my specialties.” He slid a plate in front of her.
She poured syrup on top and dug in. She sighed in bliss after the first bite and looked up to find him grinning at her unabashed enjoyment. “I didn’t know you could cook, Jake.”
“One of my many hidden talents.” He settled into a seat across from her. They ate in companionable silence.
He put down his fork and leaned back to sip his coffee. “So, give. Why are you here instead of off on your honeymoon?”
She blinked at him, startled by the edge of suspicion in his voice. Was he playing some good cop/bad cop routine on her? His watchful gaze told her that he probably wouldn’t be fobbed off with a few half-truths, but to protect her wounded pride, she had to try.
“It’s simple. I decided to call it off. I still had the two weeks off from my shop, so I decided to come here for some rest.”
He continued to study her expression. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table. “So, I shouldn’t expect an armed posse to come looking for you?”
