Shoulda Been A Cowboy. Charlotte Douglas
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instincts. “You sure you’re all right?”
She nodded and moved around him to climb the stairs.
“Wait, please.” He cast about for something to say, anything to keep her with him a little while longer.
“Yes?” A tiny line between her feathery eyebrows marred the porcelain perfection of her forehead, and he felt himself going under for the third time in the shimmering depths of her deep blue eyes.
Then he noted the bag in her hand and found a way to keep the conversation rolling. “Is this Jodie’s Café open for dinner?”
She shook her head, and the scent of her shampoo, evocative of the wisteria covering the side arbor, filled his nostrils. “Jodie’s place is open only for breakfast and lunch.”
“Is there somewhere I can grab a bite?” He wasn’t really interested in food, but the topic gave him a good excuse to keep talking.
“The closest restaurant is Ridge’s Barbecue, but it’s twelve miles east on the main highway.”
He sighed. “I’ve been driving since before dawn. The last thing I want now is to climb back behind the wheel. I guess I’ll make do with the crackers and Coke left in the cooler in my truck.”
“Or you could have supper here with me.”
He searched her face for signs of flirtation, but found only Southern hospitality. But he would take what he could get. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with a beautiful woman. Or had wanted to this badly. “I don’t want to impose on you and your family.”
“Mama’s visiting her sister, so it’s just me for supper. If you’ll join me, I won’t have to eat alone.”
No husband, no kiddies. This was his lucky day. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“Not a bit.”
OKAY, SO SHE’D LIED. But the trouble wasn’t in preparing supper. The trouble was the six-foot-plus of gorgeous testosterone sitting at the island in her kitchen. Caroline had wanted something to distract her from the sadness of Eileen’s death, but she should have been more careful what she’d wished for. Any more distraction and she’d be chopping off her fingers instead of slicing tomatoes.
“Sure you don’t want some help?” Ethan propped his elbows on the island, looking more delicious than the meal she was preparing. “I’ve done a lot of cooking in my line of work.”
“Are you a chef?” Somehow she couldn’t picture him in a chef’s apron and hat. A business suit didn’t fit, either. With his short-cropped brown hair, body by Bowflex and intense gaze, he reminded her of a young Bruce Willis, a man capable of saving the world—or at least his little corner of it.
“Not a chef. A firefighter.”
“Ah.” So she hadn’t been far off in her analysis. And firefighting explained the horrible burns on the back of his hands. But he didn’t seem the type who wanted sympathy, so she kept her tone light. “One of those guys who runs into the buildings everyone else is running out of.”
“It’s mostly sitting around twiddling my thumbs and waiting for a call.” The warmth of his smile was at least four-alarm. “Unless it’s my rotation for kitchen duty.”
What was it about this man that had her hormones doing happy dances? She focused her attention on scooping seeds from a cantaloupe, and the explanation hit her. She’d grown up with every male close to her age in the valley—not counting Rand Benedict. All of them were now married and settled down, except for Lucas Rhodes, an officer with the police department. So Ethan Garrison was the first unattached male she’d met in a long, long time whom she didn’t regard as a brother.
Or was he unattached?
She arranged wedges of melon and tomato, along with slices of country ham, on a white stoneware platter. “Moving across country must be a chore.”
“And an adventure,” he added.
What the heck, she might as well fish for information. “Will your family be joining you?”
Agony flickered across his face, and she wished she could call the question back.
“I’m traveling solo.” His neutral tone seemed tightly controlled.
She hastened to change the subject in hopes of easing his discomfort. “I’ll be moving across country soon myself.”
“You’re selling the bed-and-breakfast?” He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
“It belongs to my mother. She’ll keep it open after I’m gone.”
She’d said those words recently to Eileen. And now Eileen, one of her dearest friends on Earth, was gone. Out of the blue, the full impact of Eileen’s death hit her like a runaway eighteen-wheeler, and a sob escaped before she could hold it back.
In a flash, she found herself wrapped in Ethan’s strong arms, her face pressed against his broad, hard chest, her tears staining his T-shirt. He smelled of sunshine, leather, and was distinctively male. Holding her with unexpected gentleness for such a big man, he didn’t try to stop her crying.
“Let it all out,” he murmured against her hair. “Whatever it is, you’ll feel better for it.”
Her loss of control in front of a perfect stranger—perfect in every way—horrified her. His strong arms were both consoling and unsettlingly stirring. Forcing herself to abandon the comforting warmth, Caroline pushed away, crossed the kitchen and plucked tissues from a box of Kleenex.
“Sorry.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I just found out that a friend of mine passed away last night.”
The pain returned to his eyes, and he nodded with understanding. “It’s hard losing a friend.”
“She was quite old. She’d lived a good life and it was her time. I thought those facts would make her passing easier, but they don’t.”
“Look, you’re dealing with a loss,” he said with appealing gentleness. “I can grab a snack from my cooler. You don’t have to feed me, especially under the circumstances.”
“No! Please stay.” She shuddered at the need in her voice and tossed the crumpled tissues into the trash. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“You’re sure?”
Between Eileen’s unexpected death and Ethan’s provocative presence, Caroline was more befuddled than sure, but she nodded. “There’s wine in the fridge. Would you like a glass?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She retrieved the bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. Ethan took it and the corkscrew from her, and she removed long-stemmed glasses from the cupboard. With a deft twist, Ethan popped the cork and filled the glasses. He handed her one, and their fingers touched, sending a frisson of delight up her arm.
What was happening to her? Was Eileen’s death making her crazy? She took a deep breath to steady her whirling senses.
Ethan lifted his glass in a toast. Their gazes locked, and compassion glimmered in the green brilliance of his hazel eyes.
“To absent friends.” His deep voice was thick with emotion.
She raised her glass, but discovered she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “To absent friends.”
They both drank, and Ethan settled once more on the stool beside the island. “Now, how about telling me all about this town you’ll be leaving soon?”
Chapter Three
“That was a great meal,” Ethan said later. “I appreciate your taking the trouble.”
“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t