Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(108)

When the corn bread was almost done, he dipped up two big bowls of soup and put them on the table. While he did that, she bent over one more time to get the corn bread out of the oven and transport it to the table. He bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud and shoved his hands into his hip pockets to keep from cupping her fanny in his hand. He’d only met the woman that morning, for God’s sake!

She put a container of homemade butter and the salt and pepper shakers on the table, and then looked around to see if she’d forgotten anything.

He rolled off two paper towels to use for napkins and joined her.

“Grace?” he asked.

“Grand usually does that,” she answered.

“I’ll do it since it’s going to be my house,” he said.

She bowed her head, said “amen” right after he did, and picked up her spoon.

“Mmmm,” she said. “What’s your secret? This is fantastic.”

“Picante. I like to use my own, but there’s no electricity and I have to have a blender to make it. I found that in the pantry and it worked pretty good,” he answered. “You like it, do you?”

It shouldn’t matter, but he wanted her to like the food. He wanted her to like him and for them to be good neighbors. He didn’t want to feel tightness in his chest every time she smiled, but that was just a physical reaction to a very pretty woman.

“It’s been a week since I’ve had good home food. Next week it might not taste nearly as good, but right now it’s wonderful,” she said.

“That’s a left-handed compliment if I ever heard one.”

One shoulder raised up half an inch. “I said it was fantastic, didn’t I?”

Noel left her tattered old blanket Sage had rustled up from the linen closet and went straight to Sage’s side of the table. She gave a little yip, her eyes on Sage’s soup bowl.

Creed was glad that the dog had taken to Sage and not him. Reba and Wynonna would pitch a for real bitch fit if he let something like that live in the house and they had to stay outside.

“This is probably too hot for you, girl. I’ll find something after we finish,” Sage said.

Creed used the spatula to remove a piece of corn bread and crumbled it into his soup, saving one bite for Noel. She caught it before it hit the floor, gobbled it down, and wagged her tail.

“She thinks your corn bread is passable,” Creed said.

“What do you think?”

He shoved a spoonful of bread and soup into his mouth and nodded. “I don’t like sweet corn bread in soup or beans. This is perfect. We make a pretty good kitchen team, lady.”

“Sweet corn bread is for dessert or for crumbling up and pouring milk over, not soup,” she said.

“You got that right. What do you intend to feed this hungry momma dog? I bet she’d eat the soup if it was cool. Without the bulge of those puppies she’d be bonier than a starving greyhound.”

“We could try.” She nodded. “I’ll get a pie pan out and fill it. That way it’ll cool faster.”

Noel followed her across the kitchen floor to the stove and watched with hungry eyes while she dipped soup into the pie pan.

“Not yet, girl. It’s too hot,” she said.

Funny she should use that word because he was thinking the same thing about Sage. She was entirely too hot.

Dammit! Sage thought but managed to keep from saying it aloud.

Half a day and she was already talking to the dog. Chances were that someone would come to claim the animal when the blizzard stopped and another living, breathing thing would abandon her. It was so easy to get attached and so hard to let go.

She vowed she would not get close to Creed even if they were holed up together for the duration of the storm. Not even if he did have the dreamiest green eyes in the world and she’d always been a sucker for a man with green eyes and dark hair. Not even if he did fill out his jeans just right and it had been a very long time since she’d even been kissed.

After they’d eaten, talking only about Noel when either of them did break the silence, Sage said he could wash dishes and she’d dry them.

“Why don’t you wash?” Creed asked.

“Because I know where they go and you’ll have to ask.”

“Okay, that’s fair enough.”

In the tiny corner where the sink was located, their bodies bumped together more often than they did when they had made dinner. She dropped the drying towel and he grabbed for it at the same time she did, their hands getting tangled up in the process. A plate slipped from his soapy hands as he transferred it to the rinse water and she quickly got a hold on it with one hand and his wrist with the other.

By the time they finished there were as many sparks hopping around the kitchen as there were snowflakes falling outside in the yard.

“You going to paint now?” he asked when the last fork was put away.

She nodded.

“Then I’m going to read.” He disappeared down the short hallway and came back with a book.

Sage reclaimed her palette and began to work in earnest on her picture of the swirling snow angel. Creed was probably one of those cowboys who liked his women petite and dainty, with a little girl’s voice and a clingy attitude that said, “Protect me, big old rough cowboy.” Most men did. It made them feel all macho and needed. Tall women like her seldom got a second look.