Somehow, he'd figured it out.
She let a soft smile play across her lips as she went back to the bread dough. The dough—
She looked back to him and couldn't help a smirk at the flour handprints staining the front of his T-shirt.
He surprised her by not running away, not fading off into the living room. He moved up beside her.
"I've never watched anyone do this before."
He'd drawn his walls back up, but maybe not all the way.
"Wanna try? Here." She dipped her fingers into the small mound of flour she'd made on the clean countertop and grabbed his closer hand. She rubbed flour over his fingers, focusing on each knuckle, getting distracted by the strength in his wrist.
When he stilled, she looked up at him, saw the hesitation in his gaze.
She let her thumb rub across one knuckle. Saw the flare of heat in his eyes before he dampened it.
She didn't know where this thing between them would go, just that it felt right.
"It's called kneading," she said, moving aside so he could have at the lump of dough. "You're trying to release all the air bubbles in the dough so that the yeast can do its job.”
He pressed the dough gently as if he were petting one of the kittens.
“Harder than that.”
He smashed his fist into the dough.
“Not that hard!" She giggled at his mock-glare.
Out the window, a plume of gravel dust let them know someone was coming up the road.
"That's probably Rick," she said, nodding to the window.
Cord looked from the window down to his flour-dusted hands.
She stuffed the nerves rising in her stomach. She had to get over her fears. "Keep working. By the time I answer the door, you'll be finished."
She gave her fingers a quick rinse and was still drying them on a dish towel as she crossed through the living room.
Cord wanted to leave Sutter's Hollow behind. She'd started to feel safe again here, but the land was his.
He wanted her to go with him to Houston, but could she go back to living in the big city? In Sutter's Hollow, there was enough room for her to see to the horizon.
But after that kiss...
She opened the door and stood on the threshold, still distracted by thoughts of Cord's mouth on hers.
Weird. The plume of gravel dust had dissipated, but no car was parked near the house or even coming up the drive.
She squinted. Someone had stopped right at the turn in beneath the rusted-out sign. It didn't make sense. Rick would come up to the house, wouldn't he?
As the dirt settled, she got a glimpse of the car. Red. Her heart banged against her ribcage.
It was hard to see past the tangle of wild plum bushes that had overtaken the space behind the fence that spanned the property. What was clear was that the car was low to the ground.
Like a sports car.
"Cord." Her voice emerged a whisper as strength drained from her legs, leaching out of her body with every heartbeat.
Cord was still pounding the bread dough in the kitchen. She heard him say something to the dog.
Someone got out of the car.
She couldn't breathe.
That shock of dark hair. The skinny form, the slight hunch of his shoulders.
Toby.
Toby was here.
