Unexpected Rush (Play-By-Play #11)(17)

As he loaded the finished chicken and vegetables onto plates to carry inside, he wondered why no guys had bothered to fix a meal for Harmony. Even bacon and eggs could be impressive if done the right way—and at the right time.

Men were such douchebags sometimes. And the old ways of thinking that women were supposed to do all the cooking were long gone. His mother, a former career attorney, had made sure to teach all her sons that rule. She might have given up her career to stay at home with her kids, but that didn’t mean she did all the work around the family ranch.

Everyone pitched in. Which didn’t mean the boys did the outside work while Mom and his little sister, Mia, did the cooking and cleaning inside the house, either. According to Mom, guys were more than capable of cooking a meal, doing the dishes, and scrubbing toilets. Just as women could operate the tractors outside.

Barrett had grown up doing it all. He’d like to think he was pretty well-rounded.

He carried the plates inside and laid them on the dining room table. Harmony had already set the table.

“Perfect timing,” she said, coming into the dining room from the kitchen. “I just opened a bottle of wine.”

“I’ll go wash my hands, then we can eat.”

He dashed into the bathroom to wash up, then met her back in the dining room.

“I have to admit, this all smells really good,” she said, as he pulled a chair out for her at the table.

He took a seat next to her, anxious for her to take a bite of the chicken.

Instead, she lifted her glass of wine and tipped it toward him. “Thank you for coming over to cook dinner for me.”

He tipped his glass to hers. “You can thank me after you’ve tasted it.”

Her lips curved. “Are you nervous?”

“No. Confident.”

“Good. I like my men confident.”

Her men. Barrett was not one of her men. Never would be. But he was confident—he just needed her to eat the damn food so he could get the hell away from her sweet scent and the temptation to run his hands over her soft skin.

She finally set her wineglass on the table and cut into the chicken. He waited while she took a bite and swallowed.

Her eyes closed and she made a sound—a moaning sound. He resisted groaning in response.

“This is excellent.”

He slanted a smile at her and started eating.

“Okay,” she said after she’d had several bites of the chicken and the grilled vegetables. “You can cook.”

He took a couple swallows of wine. “Did you think I was lying?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe I did. I’m frankly surprised. My last . . . well, let’s not go there.”

“Let’s do. Tell me about bathroom counter guy.”

“Levon? He was . . . high maintenance.”

“In what way?”

“His clothes had to be impeccably pressed. I’m pretty sure the only things that ever went into the washing machine were his underwear, and even that is suspect. Everything else went to the dry cleaner’s. His house was spotless. He had cleaning people come in three times a week.”

Barrett raised a brow. “A bit of a neat freak, huh?”

She cut into another piece of chicken, then waved her fork at Barrett. “That’s an understatement. He yelled at me once because I forgot to take my shoes off at the front door. He didn’t want his precious mahogany floors scratched. And I was wearing tennis shoes at the time.”

“What an *.”

She laughed. “Yeah, kind of. At least not the kind of man I wanted in my life long-term. I like a neat and orderly house, but if I want to toss my purse on the dining room table, I’d like to know the man in my life isn’t going to have a nuclear meltdown over it.”

“Definitely the wrong guy for you.”

“I agree.”

They finished dinner, carted their plates into the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. Barrett picked up the bottle of wine from the dining room table and they settled into the living room.

What he should be doing is making a fast exit. But he didn’t want to be rude by eating and running, so he’d stay a few minutes longer. Then he’d make a clean getaway, having fulfilled his obligation.

She kicked off her sandals and pulled her legs up on the sofa, then picked up her glass. “You got the contracts?”

“I did. Already signed them. They’re in my car. I meant to bring those inside with me.”

“No hurry. But the sooner we get those executed, the sooner we can get started and finished. I know you’d like to move into your house.”

He nodded. “The condo’s a little tight for me. I’m on the road a lot during the season, but off-season it gets claustrophobic.”

“I’m sure it does, big guy like you in a condo.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly my best move. I should have leased a town house, kind of like what you have here. You have more space than I do.”

“I wanted more room than a traditional condo. The town house affords me that. I would have preferred a house, but then there’s all that lawn maintenance.”

His lips curved. “Not a fan of mowing?”

“I don’t mind it, but my business has taken off, and I often have evening and weekend meetings. I’d like a bigger place with space for an office. Maybe sometime down the road I’ll opt for the house. Right now, letting the homeowner’s association deal with it works for me.”