Page 12 of That Fateful Ride

She reached for a bowl and froze when he pressed up against her and snatched it down from the high shelf. Why did he make her want to rub all over him?

“I’ve never had a cook. I mean, I guess when I was little, Mama was. But I learned at a young age.”

Cy set the stoneware bowl down in front of her and held himself behind her for a moment. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. It took everything inside her not to lean back into his chest and simplyfeel. Experience what it would be like to have a man hold her.

I don’t think I’m wrong about him liking me in that manner.

Then again, it could simply be because he is a man and she was a woman. Perhaps, as with the whores in the saloon there didn’t have to be an emotional attachment. She wasn’t sure.

“Thank you.” She gripped the bowl and gazed around to locate the flour. Her mother had pottery ones.

“Sacks.” He pointed in front of her face directing her to the left. “Measuring cups are over in the drawer.”

“Not necessary, I’ve been doing this since I started cooking.” She slid away from his welcoming warmth.

With deft fingers she opened the sack and scooped out the amount of flour she figured she would need. She knew how much her brother could eat and when her father had been home, how many her mom made so with the five guys and her, she figured she would double it.

Bowl on the counter, she tied the bag off once more then swiped up the bowl and moved to a larger section. Grabbing a towel, she tucked it in her waistband and went to the larder to get the rest of what she needed.

When she returned he stood there chopping potatoes. A lot of the meals were stews or meat pies. Looked like today was going to be stew.

His hair hung forward over his forehead, hiding one eye from her for a few moments. Then he tossed his head as he blew some air toward the curl she fought her need to move for him.

“Do you have any other siblings?”

She stopped mixing and regripped her hold on the smooth wooden spoon. “No, only Robert and me.” She added a bit more liquid and stirred once more. “What about you?”

“No. I don’t have any siblings.”

Rebecca cut her gaze to him. He didn’t watch her but continued cutting up potatoes.

“Always figured if I found the right woman, we could have a lot of kids. So they wouldn’t be alone growing up and would have someone to play with.”

“A big family is expensive. Food, clothing and all of that.”

He scraped the cubes into the dutch oven at his left then reached for some carrots and began working on them.

“I know.” Cy held her gaze. “It’d be worth it with the right woman.”

She swallowed hard and tipped the bowl to dump her mixture on the surface to roll it out and cut the biscuits out. “I see. So does that mean you’re looking for a wife now?”

Rebecca lifted her gaze when he didn’t respond right away and found him watching her, expression seeking.

“Applying for the position?” His lips quirked as her eyes widened.

“We’ve discussed this. I’m not your type.”

“That’s the second time you’ve felt the need to tell me my type, Rebecca Freeman. Care to tell me how and why you feel it’s something you know more than I do?”

Her heart seized and she stepped close to him. “You can’t call me that. What if someone overhears?”

“I’m not spending time in a room with you calling you by your brother’s name.” A deep breath. “We’re alone. They won’t be in until I call them to eat.”

“It’s not smart to get in the habit of calling me that. What if you slip up?”

His gaze seared her and her belly clenched with longing.

“What if, what if, what if.” He put a carrot piece in his mouth and chewed. “What if I kissed you?”

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