Something about the fact that he wasn’t squirming in his seat made it easier to talk about. “I was assaulted in college, and ever since . . . I get those occasionally.”

His eyes unfocused for a bare instant, and he swallowed.

She turned the cake platter, trying to decide how many pieces to divide it into and also giving him a minute to process. Somebody would have mentioned it in front of him eventually, and now they could move past it. “I love what you’ve done with Taz, by the way. I saw her following you all over the ranch yesterday. Has she gotten any better about being near lariats?”

LJ didn’t seem to hear her. He picked up his fork and turned it in his hands. Then he tapped the end twice on the table and set it down. When his eyes came back up, they were dark, almost angry. Andra drew back from the table, her breath snagging at his reaction before she realized it probably wasn’t her he was upset at.

LJ gave her a smile, but it was a crutch’s awkward hobble compared to the smooth spread of his usual one. “I . . . wish that hadn’t happened to you.”

The words were so halting that it took her a second to process what he’d said. When she did, it was like every rib in her chest eased a little more open. Nobody had ever said that. Their eyes had said it, their pitying, twisted expressions, but those words seemed off-limits for reasons she could never have explained. “Yeah.” She half laughed. “Me too.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to be honest.” His eyes didn’t fidget away from hers, and she nodded, a feeling expanding in the air between them. Something big, too big for strangers. Whatever it was, it didn’t throw LJ off his stride. He got up from the table. “You want milk with your cake? It’s better with milk.”

“Sure,” she said without thinking. She hadn’t talked about this stuff for so long, because no matter who it was, saying anything about her attack killed the conversation and the mood. But LJ seemed to be able to take in the enormity of it all and still look her in the face. Then again, her brother had told her he was just as easy with the horses. Nothing shook LJ up, and he was always willing to make up a new technique on the spot if his old one wasn’t working. Few trainers were humble enough to be that flexible.

He flicked open the fridge. “Grocery day, huh?”

“What?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You have orange juice, half a pack of American cheese, and . . .” He peeked in the fridge again. “A pickle. One pickle.”

“There’s plenty of food in the freezer.” She glanced away. She hadn’t promised him dinner, so what business was it of his what she kept on hand?