The footsteps were even heavier than her dad’s. They stomped like somebody was trying to make a lot of noise or kick something off their shoes. Must be Jason, then. Her cottage was a good half-mile walk over a hill from the ranch. Of the two people who ever made that trek, her brother was the most likely to kick his dirt off on her porch instead of in the yard. Andra rolled her eyes and stepped off her yoga mat, headed for the door even before the knock sounded. It was lower down than usual and muffled, as if Jason were knocking with his boot.

She opened the door, and the frown froze on her face as LJ’s shoulders filled the doorframe.

He was holding . . . a cake?

“Um, hi,” she managed.

She reached behind her back to undo the knot that pulled her T-shirt tight against her chest, shaking the baggy hem so it would fall to cover some of her leggings. What was he doing here? Oh crap, she’d promised to talk to him about the horses.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I said I’d come talk to you a couple days ago, but then Socks kicked one of the grooms, and Mary Kay lost a shoe, and I completely forgot.” She hadn’t forgotten, so much as she was . . . working up to it. Giving him a few days of seeing her around the ranch when she was in control of herself, before she got close enough she’d have to see his opinion of her in his eyes.

He shrugged, careful not to tip the tall cake off its platter. “I think we got off on the wrong foot the day we met, and our do-over didn’t really stick.”

Oh God. Apparently, he wasn’t tiptoeing around anything today.

LJ grinned—a playful, twinkly-eyed one that made him look like he was just having more fun than everyone else. “Besides, nobody’s afraid of a guy with a cake.”

A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “I’ve never heard that.”

“No? It’s completely true. Not to mention, bringing a cake is the best excuse to eat some. I mean, it’s yours. You don’t have to share. Of course, if you don’t, you may want to pass a tissue or two my way, is all I’m saying.” He widened his eyes mournfully.

She glanced at the cake, the white icing whipped into gorgeous swirls. “Did Stacia make that? She used to be terrible at baking.” She gripped the edge of the door a little tighter. Maybe her friend had been practicing. It wasn’t like she knew what Stacia was up to these days.