This Can't Be Love:
He poked his head around the kitchen doorframe. His hair was disheveled, like he’d taken
off his hat and run his fingers through it. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I thought I’d give you a break tonight and make dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, that sounds great.”
“It should be ready in about half an hour.”
“Perfect, that gives me time to take a quick shower.”
“Are you working tonight?”
“Nope, I’m off.” He studied her. “I need to do a couple of things in the barn, so I won’t be in your way.”
His words brought a stab of disappointment.
She didn’t think she could take another night alone.
Last night had been a welcome change. The solitude she’d craved wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “Oh, sure.”
While Zach showered she set the table, then threw together the small salad. She pulled the bread
from the oven when he strode back into the room.
“Thanks. It’s not as fancy as the things you cook, but I thought you—” Her finger touched the side of the white-hot pan. “Ouch!”
The pan fell with a clatter on the stovetop. She stuck her stinging finger in her mouth.
In an instant Zach arrived at her side. “Let me see,” he said, taking her hand in his. He examined
the small red mark on her skin. He dipped his finger under the faucet and smoothed cold water over the burn. “This should help.”
“Better?” he asked. His gaze captured hers. He stood so close the darker flecks in his mocha-colored irises were visible.
Jessica sucked in a breath. He hadn’t looked at her, really looked at her, since he’d kissed her.
The memory of that kiss gave her courage. Or made her foolish. Before she could stop them, the
words slipped out. “Why don’t you want to kiss me again?”