Page 37 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

“Black Forest brownies.” Kelley turned the hand-crank on the sifter and sprinkled the last of the powdered sugar over her tray of brownie bites. “It’s my grandpa’s recipe. Although I have not made them in quite some time.”

“Why not?” He slipped off his boots and left them in the mudroom.

“My ex-husband wanted more sophisticated desserts on our menu at the restaurant,” Kelley explained and moved the brownie tray to the back counter.

“So, you don’t think everyone around here has a sophisticated palate, then?” Asher asked.

“It’s not that.” Kelley twisted around and watched the amusement flash across his handsome face.

He padded in socked feet softly forward.

She rounded the island to block him. “I was serious about the no-sawdust-in-my-kitchen rule.” And about not getting sidetracked.

“I know.” His grin expanded. “It’s just you’ve got powdered sugar. Here.” He reached up and touched his finger lightly against her cheek. “It’s making it hard to concentrate.”

She knew the feeling. She worked on keeping her breath and words even. “How is the chicken coop coming along?”

“It’s going well, considering we got the plans yesterday. Big E and I might only need to make one more trip to the hardware store for more supplies.” He shifted, then brushed his finger over her other cheek. “Having any issues with the old kitchen appliances in here? I know they aren’t what you are used to cooking on.”

She was having issues keeping her pulse in check and her thoughts from straying. It would be simple enough to slip her arms up and around his neck. Then if she leaned forward ever so slightly, they would be less than a whisper apart. Perfect for a… Suddenly, anticipation charged the silence.

Kelley raised her focus from Asher’s mouth to his warm yet all too alert gaze and said through her sigh, “Sorry. What was the question?”

“The appliances.” He trailed his fingers back toward her ear. “No problems, right?”

“Nothing I can’t manage.” But kissing her cowboy could be more than she could manage.

Still, she was tempted.

Still, she didn’t back away.

Still, she willed him to close the distance.

She would be quick. Just a touch of her lips to his. A brief brush. Too swift to leave an impression. Nothing she could not forget.

But his kiss might make her forget. Forget this was not a first kiss, but a last one. The only one they could share. He had found his place in the city. He belonged there. The city and Kelley were not a fit. Yet, being in her cowboy’s arms, well, that suited her. Quite well.

So it was one kiss. One private moment to steal. She wanted it more, not less now.What about you, cowboy?

The old-fashioned timer buzzed on the oven somewhere behind her.

Kelley startled and stepped back. “That would be the roast for the hot beef sandwiches tonight.”

He lowered his arm and watched her.

Rattled, Kelley blurted, “It’s finished.” So was the moment to discover if they were of like minds when it came to a possible mutual attraction. Disappointing, that. Kelley spun around and beelined for the oven, not for her cowboy’s arms.

After grabbing two dish towels, she pulled the oval roasting pan out, set it on the counter, then said, “This is another family recipe from my grandpa. I was missing…” She turned. The kitchen was empty. Her cowboy was gone. Exhaling, she finished saying quietly, “Him. I was missing him.”And now it seems you, too, cowboy.

Kelley smoothed her palms over her apron, brushing powdered sugar on the floor to be cleaned up later. Then she retied her apron and got herself sorted. She had a dinner service to complete, not a cowboy to make memories with.

Kelley managed to get through the dinner service without being distracted by Asher. Now she was back in the outdated kitchen prepping the overnight oats for breakfast the next morning while Frannie, Owen—the stable’s hot-walker turned all-around helper—and Asher finished washing and drying the last of the dirty dishes.

Frannie and Owen had been inseparable through dinner. It seemed her little sister had found a willing someone she could pass on her equestrian knowledge to. While Owen, for his part, was proving to be a skilled sous-chef for Kelley and she very much appreciated the second set of hands as she could not be on site for every meal.

Currently, Frannie and Asher were immersed in a discussion about different types of tack and the best stirrups, bridles and saddles for every different equestrian discipline. Kelley poured almond milk into the last Mason jar filled with rolled oats, vanilla and Greek yogurt. Satisfied at the consistency, she handed the glass jar to Owen.

Owen twisted the cap onto the Mason jar, set it in the refrigerator with the other dozen they’d already prepared and said, “I think they’ve officially discussed more than twenty different types of saddles alone. Not to mention the dozens of saddle pads and shapes.”