He laughed. Just one choking note of it, and then he turned away, one hand coming free of his pocket to scrub at his face. “Shouldn’t have picked tonight to make red beans.”

“What?” That fucking word again. She was so sick of saying that word, of the squirmy question mark it carried with its single, stupid syllable. LJ’s back was right in front of her, his white T-shirt stretched over his shoulders and hanging thin over his lean waist. Close enough to touch, if she dared. And he was hurting. She could hear it, but she couldn’t decipher what he was trying not to say.

She laid a hand on his back. “LJ.” Suddenly it seemed so wrong that she still didn’t know what the initials stood for. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He turned just enough so her hand slipped around to his side, and he caught it with his own, drawing it up his chest so he was holding her palm over his heart. It pulled her so close she could either tense and stand a breath apart from him or let her whole body brush the backside of his. She melted that last step closer. The toe of her cowboy boots brushed the heel of his, her breasts pressed into his back.

“I wanted him to think I was good enough.”

She caught her breath. LJ’s confession was so quiet she wasn’t totally sure she’d heard him right. “What are you talking about? You’re good at everything. Training, cooking, keeping all the employees from fighting with each other. Not to mention you were the one who caught that billing glitch with our account at the feed store last week. Just because my dad is grouchy, don’t think that means anything.”

He squeezed her hand and let go, turning toward the stove. “It ain’t no thing. Hey, you hungry?”

She dropped her hand back to her side, still warm where his body had been touching hers seconds ago. But his tone made it clear he didn’t want to pursue the topic. “Yeah. Can I help with dinner?”

“Not much left to do. Sorry I cooked without you. You have to take your time to soften up a pot of beans. Even then, they need to simmer nice and hot for a long time, until all the flavors start to borrow from each other a little bit.” He flashed her a quick smile, then bent to grab a pot. His other hand dipped into a drawer for a spoon as he dropped the pot on a burner, flicked the lid off onto the counter, and opened a cupboard. “Guess I forgot to start the rice.”

LJ never forgot anything in the kitchen. His was an orchestra performance, every piece perfectly timed, and no matter how much she teased him or messed up or got in his way, no piece ever fell out of that pitch-perfect timing.