Page 35 of More Than a Good Friend

“Because I want you to have time to see the new bull. And I’m trying to be a good friend.” He winks, which has the same heart-thumping effect it always has.

“If you help me prep breakfast casseroles, I can go over there for a few minutes while stuff is in the oven.”

“Deal.” He sticks out his hand. “You know, we never shook on the other one, did we?”

“We didn’t.” I can’t lie and tell him I forgot about the deal long ago, but talking about it isn’t my favorite thing.

“Lesson learned.” He laughs. “I’ll grab napkins.”

He starts scouring the cabinets because he has no idea where Ava keeps anything in this kitchen.

“You’ll love the bull. Maybe you can help me pick a name. Clint said I could choose.”

“I’ll come over here early and get everything in the oven so we can go see the bull.”

“Did you walk over here this morning?”

I nod as I wipe the counter. Normally, I catch a ride with Ava. It’s a little less than a mile, but first thing in the morning, it feels long.

“When it wasn’t even bright out?”

“I was careful.”

“What time do you leave the cabin?” He steps in front of me.

I’ve dealt with his protective side before, but normally it only shows up when I’m on a date. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to pick you up.” He leans down and for half a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. Then he whispers, “You got chili all over the front of you.”

“I’m aware.” I push past him, hoping he can’t sense the effect he has on me.

Twenty years and he can still set me all aflutter without intending to. I just have to keep dating until I meet someone who is so captivating, I don’t even think about Dag when I’m on the date. I haven’t met that person yet, but a girl can dream.

What if the fantasy of meeting someone I find more attractive than Dag is just as unrealistic as Dag falling for me?

I refuse to think about that right now. Crying in front of everyone at dinner will only draw unwanted attention. Plus, they’ll most likely blame Dag. And it’s not his fault.

* * *

Preppingcasseroles might be easier on my own, but Dag’s being so sweet. Plus, I want to see him wearing an apron.

“Here. Put this on.” I hold up an apron.

Instead of taking it from me, he steps closer and ducks his head under the neck strap. “Uniform and everything, huh?” He turns and looks back over his shoulder. “Tie me up.”

Why does everything the man says sound like flirting?

I help him with his uniform, then pull out the cutting board, knife, and veggies. “I’m going at assume you can handle a knife.”

“Carry one with me all the time.” He taps his pocket.

“Okay. While I cook the sausage, I need you to chop up the green onions, bell pepper, and tomato. They are all going into the same dish, so you don’t have to keep them separated.”

He gives me a thumbs-up. “Gotcha.”

While he starts on the green onions, I drop the breakfast sausage into a sizzling hot pan, then break it up so it doesn’t all cook as one big clump. “So did you teach this bull how to play fetch?”

“Nope. He just knocked a barrel back to me when I tossed it.” He mumbles to himself about keeping his fingers out of the way. “How was your date Saturday? You got back pretty late.”

---