Working alongside him in the kitchen felt strangely...domestic. And freakishly pleasant. In general, she didn’t enjoy cooking, and lately she didn’t enjoy men, so the pleasantness of the moment startled her.

“You didn’t tell me you were divorced,” he said.

She thought he might have sounded slightly accusing, as if this was something she had a duty to share with him. But that was ridiculous. She’d only met him the one time, at the end of summer. It wasn’t as if she needed to share her life story with him.

But now here she was, in his house—his family’s house—and he’d asked her a direct question. He was just being friendly, she told herself. He had no idea that it was her least favorite question. It was like being asked, “So, how’d you get that giant hideous scar?”

“Yes,” she said simply, knowing she was now expected to elaborate. “I was married for five years.”

He cut an onion into quarters using swift, confident strokes with a sharp knife; then he added the pieces to the roasting pan. “Just asking,” he said. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

“Oh, you weren’t prying,” she told him hastily. It was comforting in a perverse way, knowing the two of them were both divorced. It was like meeting another shipwreck survivor who understood just what the other had endured.

She remembered seeing Logan’s ex at the end of summer, and wondered where he was in the recovery process. She could still picture the look of longing in Logan’s eyes when he’d handed his son over to the ex. And why not? The mother of his child was blonde and beautiful, with a glowing smile. Yikes, Logan might even still be in love with her.

“I wanted to make sure the coast was clear,” he said to Darcy.

“The coast?”

“For when I start hitting on you.”

She swallowed hard. Maybe she was wrong about his ex. “You’re going to start hitting on me?”

He plucked a pinch of salt from a small bowl. “Yeah,” he said. “I might.”

Her chest tightened. She remembered the never-again vow she’d made after her marriage. “How will I know if you’re hitting on me?” she asked, her light teasing tone masking apprehension.

He grinned. “You’ll be the first to know. Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t think I was prying. Prying comes later.”

“I can hardly wait,” she said.

He hoisted the turkey into the pan. “This,” he said, “is going to make you glad I’m single. It’s going to be the most delicious turkey you’ve ever tasted.”

“How did you end up with kitchen duty?” she asked.

“I volunteered. Later, everybody will pitch in.”

“And all hell will break loose?”

He grinned. “Pretty much.”

“So, tell me about the O’Donnell family traditions. Anything unusual?”