But then he stepped back. I let out a breath of relief. Or disappointment. I couldn’t tell which.

“I want to help.” His voice was rough now.

“I need you to be over there.” I pointed to the barstools. “Because I just… I need you to be over there. I have been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.”

Rowan pursed his lips, frowning at me for just a moment before he strode around the island to sit on the barstools. My heartbeat did not slow down with the giant slab of quartz between us.

But it slowed enough to make the grilled cheese.

Rowan Derrick was in my house.

It was insane.

But what was even more insane was how natural it felt.

How right.

Chapter Seven

Recipe: French Hot Chocolate

We didn’t speak for a while as I arranged our sandwiches then got my cast iron pan from where it hung on a hook over the gas range.

My kitchen was an adorable mix between modern and rustic, leaning toward a farmhouse look with the mixture of pots and pans hanging above the stove, merging with my more eccentric style—the pink barstools, the brushed brass fixtures and the large vases of flowers on each surface.

“What will Maggie have?” I asked, breaking the silence. “I don’t have dog food.”

I mentally told myself to pick up some dog food. Then I mentally chastised myself for thinking about picking up dog food. Picking up dog food was working under the assumption that there would be a dog here to eat it. I was not planning on getting a dog—though Maggie’s presence seemed to complete the house and was making me seriously consider it—and there was no reason for me to get dog food unless I was going to get a dog.

Maggie would not be having another sleepover here.

Because her master would not be having another sleepover here.

“I could whip her up some scrambled eggs,” I offered, forcing away those thoughts. “Or I’ve got tuna in the pantry. I’m sure that will be good for her. Choline and omega three.”

“She’s got food,” Rowan said quietly, an indescribable look on his face. His features had softened, but his eyes flared with something I couldn’t decipher. “It’s in the truck. Came prepared.”

I tugged on my lip. He’d come prepared. Ready to stay the night here. After he ran Nathan out of town.

I didn’t think about the Nathan part. I couldn’t. It was too huge and confusing.

“Why didn’t you bring it in?” I asked him.

He tilted his head. The gesture was overwhelming in and of itself. That coupled with his nearness and general presence in my home was more than I could take.

“Didn’t want to seem presumptuous,” he said with a straight face.

I stared at him then let out a giggle. Then another.

He watched me with that same tilt to his head.

“You didn’t want to seem presumptuous,” I repeated amongst my giggles.