He moves toward the bed, and I flinch, unsure of his intentions. But he only lifts my head gently until I sit up, and he reaches behind me, propping up the pillow behind my neck before adjusting the pillow under my ankle. That done, he brushes his hands off on his shirt and gives me a look. “Ready for dinner now?”

“You don’t have to do all this,” I say again.

Blake holds up a finger, ignoring my attempt to push him away. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He’s really proud of himself for that one as he leaves me alone in my bed to go back down the short hallway to the kitchen. I can hear him puttering around, opening the microwave and then closing it, then the whir of it fills the trailer. I think he’s humming too.

The man is humming as he heats up my dinner and takes care of me.

What planet is he from?

I’m the caretaker—for Jacob, for my grandparents, for the whole damn county, even if they don’t realize it—but here Blake is, taking care of me when he barely even knows me.

Reflexively, I snuggle down into my pillows a bit more, intrigued to see how this goes. A moment later, Blake reappears in the doorway, nearly filling up the whole thing, and holding one of my small mixing bowls heaped full of steaming spaghetti. “There was only one meatball, but there’s plenty of meat sauce.”

“It’s fine,” I say, and he hands it over into my outstretched hands.

The first bite is that amazing level of deliciousness I always think I must’ve imagined. I’d love to say Gia’s culinary talents are wasted on us out here in the sticks, but her place does well and everyone loves her pizza, so I guess that’s enough for Gia. I take another bite and groan, “So good. Thank you.”

Grandma would be proud that I remembered some of the manners she taught me. Blake grins in surprise, warming me as much as the spaghetti. “You’re welcome.”

He disappears for a moment, coming back with his own bowl, and sits down on the bed next to my knee, close but not too close, with both feet on the floor. That’s reasonable, right? Respectable even.

So why am I disappointed that he didn’t climb right in with me?

No, Zoey. Stop that right now.

Blake takes a cautious bite of his small plate of spaghetti and his eyes widen in surprise. “Damn, that is good!”

“Yeah, we might not have fancy restaurants out here, but Gia’s restaurant serves some good food,” I reply, probably a bit more sharply than I intended. He shoots me a questioning look with that one brow arching dramatically, and I sigh.