Page 13 of Ryder
I watch her rescue the cookies from the oven, trying to get my pulse under control. She moves around my kitchen like she belongs there, all graceful efficiency even covered in flour and chocolate.
“These actually survived,” she says, carefully transferring perfect chocolate chip cookies to a cooling rack. “Though I’m not sure the same can be said for your kitchen.”
I look around at the chaos. Flour coats every surface, cocoa powder drifts in the air, and there are suspicious handprints all over my cabinets. The floor looks like a battlefield where baking supplies went to die.
“Could be worse,” I say, fighting a grin. “Remember the Great Meringue Disaster?”
She points her spatula at me accusingly. “That was your fault! You can’t just… just stand there looking all…” She gestures vaguely at me with the spatula.
“All what?” I step closer, enjoying the way her cheeks flush pink.
“All… distracting! While I’m trying to work!”
“Distracting, huh?” Another step. Her back hits the counter again, but this time there’s no flour to throw. “Is that why you always have fresh cinnamon rolls ready when I come in?”
“That’s…” She swallows hard. “That’s just good customer service.”
“Really?” I brace one hand on the counter beside her hip. “What about the vanilla beans?”
Her eyes go wide. “You…”
I touch her flour-dusted chin with my free hand.“I’m the one who got them. Asked Rachel to give them to you because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.”
“Oh.” The sound is soft, surprised. Happy? “Why?”
“Because you mentioned wanting them. Because your whole face lights up when you talk about baking. Because I—”
A knock at the door makes us spring apart like guilty teenagers.
“Ryder?” Jake’s voice calls out. “You in there? We’ve got a situation with the north fence.”
I’m going to kill him. Slowly. With his own fence posts.
“Be right there,” I call back, not taking my eyes off Dana. She’s still pressed against the counter, looking deliciously rumpled and flustered.
“You should…” She gestures at the door. “The fence.”
“Yeah.” But I don’t move. Can’t, when she’s looking at me like that. “Dana…”
“Go.” She smiles, soft and sweet. “We can clean this up later.”
Later. The word holds promise.
“Save me a cookie?” I back toward the door, memorizing how she looks all flour-dusted and beautiful in my kitchen.
“Always do, don’t I?”
As I head out to deal with whatever fence crisis Jake’s manufactured while he rolls his eyes at my appearance, I can still feel the ghost of her fingers on my face. Still see that soft smile. Still taste the possibility of later on my tongue.
Chapter 7
Dana
Two days later, I’ve settled into a routine at the guest house. Wake up at dawn, bake what I can with limited equipment, field calls from Elise about repair estimates, try not to spontaneously combust every time Ryder stops by to “check on things.”
Which he does. A lot.
“More cookie testing?” His voice makes me jump as I pull another batch from the oven. He’s leaning in the doorway, fresh from ranch work, looking unfairly attractive with his shirt sleeves rolled up.
