She was wearing a pair of cutoffs that showed off those long, shapely legs and a sexy off-the-shoulder sweater in plain black. Her hair, all russet tones thanks to the sun, was styled in short, tousled waves. She looked casual, sexy, happy.

“Our parents made us have chore day once a week while they all went to brunch. Every time I see a carton of orange juice, I feel compelled to clean the microwave,” he fibbed.

“Since you’re cooking, I brought flowers and some new finds from the secret room,” she said, holding up a box with a bouquet of flowers in it.

He took it from her, put it down, and then did what he always wanted to do when she walked into the room. Silas kissed the hell out of her.

“Wow,” she said, eyes wide and bright, when he finally pulled back.

“Preview of dessert,” he promised and led the way into the kitchen.

“I don’t mean to look a gift penis in the mouth, but you did promise me an actual dessert,” she reminded him.

“There’s pie,” he promised. “I bribed Dad into making it by promising to spend a Saturday in his garden with him. His apple crumb pie is a religious experience, which is why we’ll be eating it in bed. After.” He gave her his best lecherous look.

She laughed. “After-sex pie. You, Silas Wright, are one-of-a-kind.”

He got a mason jar out of the cabinet and handed it to Maggie. “You get our centerpiece organized while I start dinner.”

They worked companionably in the tight space of his kitchen and filled each other in on their days.

Silas told her about the client in Abileen who scheduled his crew for the weeding, mulching, and trimming in his backyard when his next-door neighbor was away on vacation. The neighbor was apparently an attractive woman in her early sixties who was into gardening. The client was a recently retired single guy with a black thumb who was working up his nerve to ask her out.

Maggie was making progress in the third-floor bathrooms. The shower surround and new toilet were in place in the hallway bathroom, and the tile and vanity were ready to be picked up for one of the attached baths.

“I got a whole twenty minutes in there this afternoon before Keaton found me, and then Jim needed me for an almost-emergency, and then Dean demanded that I reshoot a one-on-one that didn’t have a chorus of circular saws in the background,” she told him. “Oh, and in the middle of all that, Wallace wanted to show me sixty pages of Campbell family scrapbooks he had Cody haul down from the secret room.”

Plate of steaks in hand, Silas nudged her toward the back door, and they moved their catch-up to the covered deck. “Anything noteworthy in the scrapbooks?” he asked.

“Not unless you count Wallace’s commentary on hemlines noteworthy.”