Page 12 of Pretend To Be My Cowboy
She’d thought that room was for her. For her and her sister in Chicago. So did that mean she didn’t know Frank had a daughter with Loretta?
Most likely, since she hadn’t even known about Loretta.
Pity and guilt were an unpleasant combination. His heart ached for this woman he hardly knew. No matter what her relationship had been with Frank, she deserved better than to find out about her own family likethis. Or fromhim.
“What do you like in your omelets?” he asked as he reached the kitchen.
He busied himself with pulling out the eggs and leftover vegetables from last night’s dinner to keep from watching Emma as she took in the kitchen with those wide, curious eyes.
“Whatever you have is fine,” she said.
He nodded, already getting to work. For the first time in his life he wished he’d paid attention to his mama’s cooking lessons so he could offer Emma something more than this basic, go-to breakfast.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked.
He hadn’t realized she was so close, and when he turned to find her leaning against the counter, his breath was knocked clean out of his lungs. So very pretty, and in such an approachable way. There was nothing pretentious or feigned about her.
Her easy smile widened when he didn’t answer.
He gave himself a mental kick. “If you want to grab some plates from that cabinet over there…” He nodded in the direction and she moved into action, setting the table as he finished up their meal.
She seemed so at home already, like being here with him was the most natural thing in the world. He gave his head a shake.Ridiculous.
Maybe his family was right. Maybe it was time to settle down if he was losing his senses over a pretty woman he’d only just met.
He brought the pan to the table and dished out the simple fare, and by the way she oohed and aahed, it might as well have been a gourmet, Michelin-rated meal.
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes with a little moan that had his fork hovering in mid-air as he stared at her. She opened one eye and gave him a teasingly suspicious glare. “How come your omelet is so much better than mine?”
He laughed. And heck, he’d lost track of how many times she’d surprised a laugh out of him now. “Maybe because I use our own homegrown eggs.”
He nodded toward the back door, the direction of the chicken coop.
Her jaw dropped. “Really? That’s amazing.” She looked down at the omelet as if seeing it in a new light. “I had no idea homegrown eggs tasted so much better.”
He leaned over the table and dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell the other city folk. They might want in on this.”
She leaned over too and gave him a cute little wink. “It’s our secret. I’ll take it to the grave.”
He dipped his head and stabbed his fork into his omelet to hide a goofy grin. Would she ever stop surprising him?
He glanced up to watch her eat. He suspected not.
“Hey Nash, you here?” Kit’s voice called from the mud room in the back.
Nash tensed, his fork frozen in mid-air again, as he watched Emma’s curious gaze move in the direction of Kit’s voice.
A wave of possessiveness caught him off guard.Mine, a voice seemed to say. A sizzle of panic shot through him at the idea of Emma meeting his better-looking, ever-charming best friend.
It stunned him so badly, he nearly choked on a bite of broccoli.
“Did you pick up that lady yet? She was due on the first flight this morning and JJ said—” Kit stopped short in the kitchen’s entrance.
His crooked devil-may-care grin that the ladies seemed to love so much was on full display as he caught sight of Emma. He pointed in her direction. “You must be that lady.”
Not surprisingly, Emma seemed just as won over by Kit’s easygoing nature as every other woman on this planet.
“Guilty as charged,” she said with a beaming grin that made Nash wish he could tuck her away somewhere out of Kit’s sight.
