“Of course.”
“What else did Gladys do for you?”
“She made me my favorite soup.”
His eyebrows lifted. “My favorite soup is clam chowder.”
She laughed out loud. “I knew that would be coming.”
He placed his hand on her arm and stroked it gently. “What else did she do?”
“She found my favorite movies and I sat in this chair and watched movies all day.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I could do that, as long as you are with me.”
Whitney’s expression softened, and her eyes were greener than before. He couldn’t resist caressing her cheek, even though the muscles in his arms were sore just from the movement.
“That does sound like a stress-free day,” she said quietly.
He studied every inch of her face, starting from her forehead over her cute little nose, to her smooth pink cheeks that grew darker by the second, and lastly to her heart-shaped lips. As he drew his thumb across her bottom lip, his mind replayed their kiss at the airport. Nothing about that first kiss had been serious, but he remembered it had been enjoyable. Since then, he’d thought about kissing her again. He didn’t want to kiss her due to their playacting in front of her family. He wanted her to kiss him because she wanted to.
“Zack? Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
He smiled. “Forgive me, but I usually like to stare at beautiful women.” He winked. “And I think you look gorgeous today.”
Her cheeks flared a darker pink. “Your pain pills must be kicking in. That’s the only excuse for your fuzzy vision.”
“No. The pills haven’t taken effect yet. I can see just fine.” He cupped her face. Her skin was hot against his palm. “You are really very pretty today.”
Whitney’s breaths came faster, but she stayed by his chair, staring at him with stars in her eyes. “Zack,” she whispered, “you can be yourself when it’s just the two of us. There’s no reason to pretend now. Gladys is in the kitchen and Joe and the other ranchers are outside.”
“I know.” He nodded. “I’m being honest with you. I really think you’re pretty.”
She chuckled and started to pull away, but he grasped her arm, keeping her from leaving. When her gaze locked on his again, there was a little moisture in her eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Zack,” she sighed, “I’m not used to men – or anyone – telling me I’m beautiful, so forgive me if I don’t believe you. I’m old enough to know that I’m not a pretty woman, and I’m okay with that.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong. Youarea pretty woman.”
“You’re a flirt, Zack, so it’s hard for me to believe you.”
“Is there anything I can say or do to make you believe?”
“Probably not.”
She stood this time, but he held onto her arm loosely, waiting for the right moment to make his move. As she started to turn, he pulled on her arm hard enough to make her stumble toward him. Although it strained his already sore muscles, he reached out and grasped her hips, pulling her down to his lap. When her bottom landed on his sore thighs, he gritted his teeth against the pain as he wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her in place.
“Zack!” she gasped. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “What are you doing?”
“I thought it would be better toshowyou that I’m being sincere.”
“Seriously, Zack. Let me up. I’m sure my weight on your achy legs is killing you right now.”
“You’re as light as a feather.”
Huffing, she scowled. “What do you want?” she whispered. “Why are you acting this way? I told you that it’s okay to be yourself when we’re alone.”
