Then, again, he did know. She’d just lost her two closest friends. She felt alone. Since everyone hung out at the bunkhouse, he figured she’d appreciate being surrounded by people other than staff.

“I don’t know what that is,” Rosie said. “But if it’s not too far from the hotel, I’d love it. Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He glanced between the notebook and the dress. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Run, Brodie,” Knox said. “Run. You don’t want to catch wedding cooties.”

“I should get out of your hair,” Rosie said.

He looked up from his laptop. “What?” She’s leaving?

“Did I say it wrong? I thought that was an American expression?” She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, surveying the rows of baking pans she’d laid out on every counter in the kitchen.

“No, it is.” He’d come home a few minutes ago with a head full of ideas for the Outfitting business, and he wanted to write them down before he forgot them.

But he didn’t want her to leave.

“My roommate at university was American, and her dad used to say these really corny things. He’s from the Midwest, and he was absolutely the sweetest, most down-to-earth man you’ll ever meet. He’d rub his hands together and say, Okay, girls, let me get out of your hair.” She reached for her black leather tote bag.

It was her first day in the bunkhouse, and they hadn’t considered how it would work with him living there. “You don’t have to go.”

“It’s late, and you’re home, so...”

“Well, wait.” He headed into the kitchen, taking in her work. “Are you done?”

“I’ll come back in the morning.”

“Go ahead and finish up.” He didn’t know why he was pushing. Let her go. Except…she only had a couple more days left.

“Well, I mean, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d like to replace the petals in these last couple of pans. As many as I can do before I leave will make me happy.”

He nodded, aware of an uncomfortable tension between them. But he couldn’t figure out the source. It wasn’t like they were at odds with each other. She understood she couldn’t have an exclusive on his meadow; she seemed fine with it. So, why did he feel this strange push-pull?

The slant of light from the lowering sun hit her hair in a way that made him notice the different colors within the strands—copper, mahogany, even a hint of bronze. It accentuated the feminine slope of her shoulder and landed at just the right angle to spill into the V-neck of her dark red blouse, highlighting plump cleavage. “Stay.” His voice came out funny, and he had to clear his throat.