Page 19 of Between a Rock and a Hard Cowboy

Linc huffed as he sat in the leather armchair opposite her. “I wish. Haven’t had a good home cooked meal in weeks.”

“Tell me about it. Your brother knocking up my friend has been very inconvenient.”

“No kidding,” he mumbled as he shoveled a spoonful into his own mouth.

She sat again and dipped the spoon tentatively into the bowl. Scooping up a piece of carrot and potato with some broth, she tasted the mouthful. It wasn’t bad. Hot. Hearty. Maybe a tad too much salt.

“Did you make this?”

“Made a pot yesterday.” He nodded. “I figured you’d be hungry after working through dinner time.”

She glanced up and saw it was dark outside. It had been light when she’d arrived, but it could be dark at four-thirty in the winter so that didn’t mean much. “Is it dinner time?” she asked.

“It’s seven-thirty.”

As if on cue, a clock she hadn’t noticed before chimed somewhere nearby. One of those long elaborate kind of chimes.

“Make that seven-forty-five,” Linc corrected himself.

Her brows rose. She had been working a long time. She dug in for another scoop, grabbing a square hunk of meat this time. The tender beef fell apart in her mouth and she resisted the urge to groan as the well-seasoned flavor tickled her taste buds.

She noticed him watching her and felt compelled to say something. “This is good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Too much civility, especially between her and Linc, felt weird, so she broke the spell and said, “Did you get outside done?”

He nodded. “I got the greens up around the doorway and on the columns just before the snow started.”

“Snow?”

“Yup.”

She narrowed her eyes as she saw the barely contained smirk on his face. “Go ahead. Say I told you so.”

He shook his head, though the amused expression remained. “Don’t have to. I think the snow speaks for itself, don’t you?”

“Smart ass.”

He let out a short laugh at her mumbled comment.

“And I didn’t hang the ornaments because I wasn’t about to put up twelvedozenand then have you come out of your trance and tell me I did it wrong,” Linc continued.

She couldn’t argue with him there. “Fair point. I’m done for now. I can help you with the ornaments.”

“That would be nice,” he said, with a good dose of attitude.

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a comeback, but instead kept eating.

“So, what are you working on, anyway?” he asked.

Oh, great. They’d reached the pointless small talk portion of the evening, which was annoying enough. But having to dance around his question with an answer that would satisfy him and not expose her, pissed her off.

“Just a project for a client,” she said, not exactly lying.

“What kind of project?” he prodded.

“Research.”

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