6

      When Lynn saw the enormous amount of food Mitch had ordered, she blinked. “Were you planning on feeding an army?”

      “What can I say? I like pizza and salad, and leftovers are always good, right? The kids will gobble this right up.”

      She saw the ploy for what it was, a face-saving way to put a little extra food on her table. Before she could call him on it, he frowned at her.

      “Do not make a fuss over this, Lynnie,” he said, resorting to the nickname only he had ever dared to use. “It’s pizza. I’m not having steaks and champagne delivered, along with boxes of fresh produce.”

      “You should take the leftovers home with you,” she insisted with a touch of defiance. She wasn’t about to tolerate his pity.

      “Nate’s coming home this weekend. We’ll be going out to eat, more than likely.”

      “But did you ever know a college kid who couldn’t eat his weight in pizza?” she countered just as stubbornly.

      “How about we wait and see how many leftovers there are?” he suggested. “I have a big appetite. And the kids might turn up and want their share.”

      “The Jolly Green Giant doesn’t have a big enough appetite to go through this much food,” she insisted. “And the kids are eating with friends.”

      “You realize while we’re debating this, the pizza’s getting cold,” he said, reaching for a slice.

      She started to argue some more, but finally relented. It was clearly futile, at least for now. “Okay,” she said, then warned, “but the discussion’s not over.”

      He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

      Regarding him with frustration, she asked, “Do you have to win every argument?”

      “Only when I’m right,” he said. “And, just so you know, I’ve never been afraid to admit when I’m wrong, either.”

      “Now that I can hardly wait to see,” Lynn told him, taking her first bite of pizza and nearly choking at the heat that burst in her mouth. It was true that the slice had cooled, but the jalapeños hadn’t.

      “Come on, wimp. It’s not that hot,” Mitch teased as she began picking off the jalapeños.

      “Are you kidding me? I could heat the house from the fire in these things.”

      “So, no more jalapeños for you,” he said, looking disappointed.

      “No, no, I left one piece on here,” she said, pointing out a tiny sliver. “Just enough for a hint of spice.”

      Mitch studied her for a minute. “Is that the way you want to live your life these days, Lynn? Being safe, with barely enough spice to keep things interesting?”

      She thought she detected a hint of criticism in there, but it was a legitimate question. “For now, yes,” she told him. “For the kids’ sake I have to be cautious. Things are topsy-turvy enough around here without my rushing into things.”

      He nodded. “Fair enough.”

      “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I thought you weren’t looking for anything more right now, either,” she said, puzzled by his reaction.

      “I wasn’t,” he said, then added more firmly, “I’m not.”

      “But?”

      “I seem to be a lot more open to the possibilities than I was a few days ago.” He looked into her eyes. “And just so you know, I’m probably no crazier about that than you are.”

      Lynn was rattled by his candor. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response.

      They continued eating in silence. To her surprise, it didn’t feel the least bit strained. It felt…comfortable.

      “Maybe we should pretend we never had this conversation,” she suggested eventually. “We could just go on working together, be friends, no complications.”

      “A nice theory,” he agreed, still holding her gaze. “I just think maybe it’s too late.”

      “It’s not too late,” she said a little urgently. “It can’t be. That’s all I can handle, Mitch. Seriously.”

      He smiled at her reaction. “No need to panic. We’re not impulsive kids. We don’t have to rush into anything. I just figured you deserved to know where my head is.”

      “Are you sure your head has anything to do with it?”

      A grin broke across his face at the question, and then his booming laugh filled the kitchen. “Now that, my friend, is something I imagine I’ll be puzzling over for most of the night.”

      Lynn couldn’t bear seeing him out on that limb all by himself for another second. She finally allowed herself to relax and grinned back at him. “Since we’re being honest, me, too.”

      Mitch’s expression sobered at once. “Now that is the best news I’ve heard in a very long while.”

      He sounded so sure of that, Lynn thought, while she thought maybe it was the scariest bit of news ever.

      * * *

      When her doorbell rang the next morning a little after nine, Lynn glanced up gratefully from the computer. What had seemed so simple last night with Mitch’s coaxing was proving completely bewildering this morning.

      When she opened the front door, though, and found Raylene on her doorstep with a coffee cake and a smug expression, she had second thoughts.

      “I thought maybe you’d have time for a cup of coffee before I leave for the store,” Raylene said, then added hurriedly, “The coffee cake stays, even if you want me to leave.”

      Since the aroma of the apparently still-warm cinnamon pecan coffee cake was too tempting to ignore, Lynn stepped aside. “Come on in. I just made a fresh pot of coffee. I figure I’m going to need it if I’m going to figure out this billing system of Mitch’s.”

      Raylene looked momentarily chagrined. “You were working. I’m sorry.”

      “It’s fine. I’m not on a rigid timetable. I think Mitch finally realized there’s going to be a learning curve with me. I’ll get the bills out today, but his payroll system is going to take a lot longer. He’ll pick up the computer later and deal with that himself this week.”

      Raylene joined her in the kitchen. “A knife? Forks? Plates?” she asked, glancing around.

      Lynn realized then that this was one of the few times in the years they’d known each other that Raylene had been in her kitchen. She pointed to the drawers and cabinet. “I’ll get napkins.”

      “I’ll cut the coffee cake while you pour the coffee.”

      As soon as they were settled at the table, Lynn gave her friend—and boss, she reminded herself—an amused look over the rim of her cup. “I assume there’s a price for this neighborly gesture.”

      Raylene looked momentarily taken aback, then chuckled. “Okay, I want information. I know Mitch was here till late last night. Lexie called Mandy the second she got home to report that. As if I needed confirmation,” she scoffed. “His truck was