Page 106 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

“Yes, because I also eat. And I’m single. And there isn’t much in the way of good takeout in Pine Ridge Falls.”

“Oh, seriously, that’s a place? It sounds like a hollow in a...made-up story with woodland creatures.”

“It’s a real place,” he said. “On the Oregon coast. And there are expanses of beach with no one there. Trees, mountains and not a single high-rise building.”

“Sounds like...a good place to visit.”

“That’s how I feel about the city.”

For some reason, that made her heart sink. Which was silly. Because it wasn’t like their relationship had staying power. It wasn’t like they had to want to live in the same place.

They just had to want to inhabit the same space, naked, for the next couple of weeks. This wasn’t about changing things, or finding deep feelings. It was about letting go, exploring this completely unknown level of chemistry.

That was all.

“Well, fine, but in the city you have takeout.”

“And at home I have the farmer’s market. And beef from local ranches...”

“We have Whole Foods.”

He laughed. “You do. But the traffic.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. But this is why you order groceries, and food, and have it come to your house. And then you don’t have to leave. Or see people.”

“Are you really blaming your job for your lack of a social life? Because it sounds to me like you’re kind of a willing hermit.”

“What about you? Do you have friends in Mayberry Glen?”

“Pine Ridge Falls. And not many. It’s hard. Everyone kind of looks at you with sad eyes all the time. Because in a small town everyone knows you and your business. And you can hardly go out and eat alone without people patting you on the back and asking if you’re okay.”

“Thus your cooking skills.”

“Thus. Plus, like you said, being alone is nice sometimes.”

“Boy, aren’t we a pair?”

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips. “We are.”

She wrapped one arm around his waist and kissed his mouth. He leaned in and deepened it, and she tried to wrap her other arm—still clutching the takeout—around his neck.

“I think we can call this finished,” he said. “I’m in the mood for something other than art.”

“Me, too.”

“Not here, though, because technically it’s a shared space and I don’t share. Not my studio time, and not you.”

And she feared that all her good intentions, her desire to remain detached, had crumbled in that moment. She did her best to keep it light. To keep it teasing. “Oooh. Possessive.”

“I’m old-fashioned that way. No other guys are invited to this party.”

“Other women?”

“Nope,” he said, “not even then.”

“Good. Because while certain extra, vibrating artificial body-parts are welcome... I’m not that adventurous.”

“Well, maybe we should see just how adventurous you are.”

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