His hand started to rise to the phone in his back pocket, and she threw a mushroom, nailing him above one hip bone. “Don’t even think about it.” She got up and grabbed her barn jacket from the hook by the door, spreading it over her legs when she sat back down. “There, happy?” He laughed, and his camera phone clicked. “Damn it, LJ! Don’t you and your mama ever get tired of laughing at me? I have plenty of blankets. For my bed. Which is where people use blankets.”

Her scowl was only halfhearted. It was hard to be mad at a guy who texted his mother daily, even if they seemed to think she was some kind of barbarian for being clueless about words like “braise” and “poach,” as if they came up so often in conversation.

“We’re not laughing at you,” he protested, though the twitching of his lips gave him away as he typed out his text message. “This is for your own good. Once she sees what you’re using for a throw blanket, she’ll have one knitted up for you by Monday morning.” He put his phone away, picked up the mushroom she’d thrown, and went back to the vegetables he was sautéing. “If we get another three days of rain, you might be grateful by then.”

Three days of rain. Which meant it had been three days since the rodeo, three days since she’d kissed him, and he hadn’t made a single move. In fact, he hadn’t changed toward her at all. He was casual, playful, his jokes were dirty as ever, and his hands never strayed past a quick tug to the end of her braid or a brush across her shoulders, whether they were in the barn or in the privacy of her house.

She propped her chin on her hand. She’d spent every one of those days thinking the word “relationship” into tatters, along with everything that might mean, and she still didn’t know if the life she wanted for herself would ever include a man. What she did know was that she wanted to explore the curves of LJ’s shoulders. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. Maybe he just liked having company at dinnertime. She couldn’t imagine him eating ready-made meals at the main house, with the way his hands were so quick and competent on a skillet handle or a whisk, fitting each tool as if they were made for that purpose alone.

Outside, the rain picked up, the steady drum on the roof getting louder.

She dropped her hand onto the table. “LJ?”

He picked up the skillet and gave it a flick so all the bell pepper slices leaped up and flipped themselves over. “Mm-hmm?”

“What did you think when I kissed you?”