“Well, it’s a bit late now,” she joked. “Seeing as how I’ve got eggs in the batter already. Besides, it’s a premade mix and it’s just going to waste at my house. There’s no one there to eat all these delicious things but me, and if I eat any more, my butt will be the size of one of the cattle.” And she was having a hard enough time finding a date as it was.

Not that she usually paid particular attention, but she also knew if she put on weight, Greg would gloat about how she was falling apart without him, and she really, really didn’t want to give the man anything to use against her.

“I meant coming over. Cooking.”

Becca gave him a look over her shoulder. “You guys need help. Doc’s helped me before, so I don’t mind returning the favor. And it’s not like I’m busy at home. Ever since Gr—er, my ex—moved out, I don’t like being there by myself. It’s too quiet. No kids, and my parents moved to Vancouver about five years ago.” She shrugged. “It’s just been me for a while now. Do you like blueberries? I thought I’d start with blueberry muffins.”

“Why’d he move out?”

She focused her gaze on the mixture, stirring harder. She couldn’t look over at him. This was . . . he was testing her, right? Becca decided to laugh it off. “Oh, come on. I know Doc loves a good story. Surely he’s told you all about how Greg left me practically at the altar for the mayor? Well, she’s the mayor now, but she wasn’t then. They were just friends. It’s complicated.” She stirred harder, as if imagining Greg’s smug face and all the years she’d given him, all to be jilted right before her own damn wedding that she was paying for out of pocket because his paychecks were “irregular.” More like nonexistent.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” She turned and looked at him.

“Yes, I like blueberries.” He drained his coffee and moved to the coffeepot to pour himself another round. “And he sounds like an idiot.”

“Oh, he is.” Becca slapped at the batter even harder with the hand mixer. “It was one of those ‘high school sweetheart’ situations. Just because he was fun and charming in school doesn’t mean he was good at being a real adult. It took me far too long to figure that out.”

A hand covered hers.

Becca jolted, startled. The hand touching her was enormous, tanned, and hard with calluses. It also made her tingle in a million different ways.

“Muffins, not soup,” was all he said.

She snorted with amusement. “Sorry. I was just imagining Greg’s head.”