Remy walked to his stove, which had a big flat cast-iron grill over the top of two burners, and turned the heat on. Then he went over to the fridge and took out a couple of preprepared hamburger patties.
“Those are nice looking burgers,” she offered, just to have something to say.
“I do appreciate that, for all you’re a big lover of animals, you don’t seem to be against my profession.”
She was feeling sort of against him in a lot of ways right now, but not because he was a rancher. “I respect people who care for their animals, even when those animals are part of the food chain. I grew up country enough to understand the difference between what somebody like you does versus a factory farm. And I personally don’t have the fortitude to be a vegetarian.”
“Well, fair enough.”
He put the meat on the grill, and the sizzling sound made her stomach growl even more fiercely.
She heard the sound of Hank’s tags jingling as he slunk into the room looking baleful, as if Remy had betrayed him by cooking food not intended for him.
“Oh,” he said. “I guess I should throw a third hamburger on.”
“Are you really going to feed the dog hamburger?”
“Unless the pet police tells me that I can’t.” He opened up the fridge and grabbed a third patty.
“You just keep those in there?”
He laughed. “Beef is kind of my thing.”
“Right.”
“And the dog should have something nice.”
She put aside all the confused feelings she had for him and wondered why she didn’t think she deserved anything nice. Or rather, why she didn’t push for more in her life.
Why she let him see her as the little sister, and why she’d always sort of accepted her lot in this town as being the weird girl who was either conspicuous when she didn’t want to be, or cloaked in invisibility when she wished someone would notice her.
She’d thrown herself into taking care of animals, because they didn’t think she was weird. Because they appreciated her, and so, too, did other animal people.
In her experience, animal people were often seen as weirdos. But to her, they were the good ones. The real ones. The ones who took time out to care for creatures that couldn’t care for themselves. Possibly because of the ways in which people judged them and left them behind.
She couldn’t resent her oddness because it had brought her to her passion, but she did resent . . .
That things sometimes still felt like high school.
This whole experience with Remy felt as if it had cemented something that she hadn’t quite put a finger on before. She waswaiting, and she had to stop.
She hadn’t even realized it, but it was true.
No other man was Remy, so she’d never even tried to have a romantic relationship. Because one man saw her as a little sister, she’d sort of assumed this sexless identity that she just wasn’t happy with anymore.
Irritation turned to determination.
She leaned against the door frame and looked at him, the strong set of his shoulders, the way he confidently cooked the burgers, then added slices of cheese.
“Have you . . . have you ever . . .” She trailed off. She was skirting close to dangerous territory right now. Bringing all this up. But part of her wanted to demystify him.
“What?”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
He looked up from the grill and stared at her.
“No,” he said. “Why?”
