I worked to keep my tone casual. I might like to date, but I wasn’t into cheating. Open relationships? Yeah, sure. But only when everyone knew what was up. And was cool with it.
“No one in my life meets any of those descriptions.”
“Is there anyone in your life who thinks they meet those descriptions but you disagree?”
“Nope.”
“In that case, I made dessert. Wanna eat it outside?”
Hank’s eager nod warmed me from the inside out. Food was my love language, and I loved to share it with anyone who wanted to sit at my table. Even Gage, the most annoying brother that ever existed, was welcome at my table because he shoveled my food in his mouth and always asked for thirds.
I gathered the marinated raspberry-strawberry combo off the counter and moved to the island so I could assemble the plates. While I sliced the pound cake, Hank grabbed the plates and silverware he’d just washed. I turned around to get a spoon for the berries, but when I turned back around, I caught Hank red-handed, sneaking berries from the bowl. I quickly rapped his knuckles with my free hand. And people accused me of being the naughty one.
“What?” he asked, all fake innocence. I wasn’t fooled.
“Stay out of my berries. I’ll put them on your plate, then you can eat them.”
“But I have to sample them first. What if they’re not good?” He winked.
“Sir. You seriously think my dessert wouldn’t be delicious? Theaudacity. I know what I’m doing here.”
Hank at least had the decency to look sheepish. “You’re absolutely right. What was I even thinking?”
“Exactly. I know what I’ve got, and what I’ve got is a super yummy dessert.”
I pulled the whipped cream from the fridge. I cheated with it from a can—because nobody has time for that—and gave each plate a generous squirt. Then I grabbed the two extra forks he’d laid on the counter and handed the plates off to Hank, who carried them while I opened the porch door.
I looked from the bistro table to the swing. “Where do you want to sit?”
He followed my gaze and didn’t hesitate before heading toward the swing and sitting down. I handed him his plate and settled beside him.
The swing wasn’t big, and he hadn’t sat on the far end, so there was no avoiding the contact. Our thighs touched because his legs were in full man-spread position, and I was starting to think that wasentirelyon purpose. The place where our skin met sent a wave of heat and sparks through me. My successful efforts to control the excited shivers made me proud. I could do this.
My brothers used to laugh about how easily I fell in love. The right smile, the right pickup line, the right touch…and I was in love until I wasn’t.
When I came down here, I made a promise: no flaking out. No getting distracted by hot guys. Rowan claimed my problem was falling in love before thinking about whether I should. But not this time. Not in Comfort. I was going to be a proper businessman with a proper business—and not get tangled up in a sexy cowboy who lived next door.
But damn, I could appreciate the view.
“Did you make this dessert by yourself? Like—not store-bought?” Hank asked, clearly impressed.
“I did. All by my lonesome. The honey for the berries is local. I picked up a bottle when I got the goats and wanted to try it.”
“Oh yeah? Did you get the goats from the Delgado’s place?”
“I did! How’d you know?”
“’Cause they’re the only ones around here with goats and local honey.”
“Small towns are wild. I thought it might work for the B&B. Maybe over French toast or pancakes or something—not just syrup. I wanted something different that was local to the area.”
“Makes sense. I think I’d put this on anything and be happy to eat it off.”
Oh. Dear. Sweet. Baby. Goats.
The visual that popped into my mind had me shifting in my seat. Hank gave me an odd look, but I returned it with a bright smile. There was no way I would tell him that I could see him dropping dollops of sweet, sticky fruit on my body and cleaning it off with his tongue. I cleared my throat and worked on thinking pure, innocent thoughts. Kittens. Clouds. Whipped Cream.Dammit.
“The cider you brought was really good.”
