“Themed specialties.” Bull considered. “Perhaps a night a week?”

“That would be good. So, someone craving Italian knows he should visit on, say, Thursdays.”

“Hmm.” He considered for a moment. “I like it.”

His approving nod lit a glow inside her, much like when she’d been ten, served her first lasagna, and been cheered by everyone at the table. She smiled back, regretful she couldn’t simply enjoy feeling…valued. Making her place at the roadhouse. But she wasn’t here to stay or to do anything but get Kit and Aric out.

When she closed the egg container, he chuckled and put his hand over hers. “Three more eggs, please, sweetheart. I’m a big eater.”

His warm, callused palm was so wide it covered her hand completely.

A disconcerting need flared inside her as her hormones bubbled to life.

No, no, no.

“Three more it is.” She tried to lift her hand, but he had it pinned down, then slid the sleeve of her flannel shirt upward. Exposing all the red scratches and scrapes from yesterday.

With his other hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear and studied her face. “You look like you got tossed into a blender on the chop setting.” He ran a finger down her cheek beside one long scrape. So gentle a touch, yet his grip on her hand was as unyielding as his gaze.

She swallowed and considered lying, but simply couldn’t. Evasion, then. “I was exploring your Alaska wilderness and ended up off the trail.” Her smile made the scratch on her chin pull painfully. “Some of those bushes are pushier than rush hour, subway riders. One of them had spines all over it—the stem, the leaves, everything.” Thank God she had tweezers with her since a whole lot of those spines had ended up in her arm.

“I bet you met up with some devil’s club.” A line formed between his black brows. “Unless you’re an experienced hiker, leaving the trail is unwise. It would be my pleasure to show you around.”

She couldn’t think of what to say. He was strong, competent, and knew his way around the wilderness. How she wanted to simply beg him to help her get Kit and Aric, but…that would be foolish.

They barely knew each other. She thought of the way Iron Boy had died and cringed inside. Helping her would mean risking his life.

And there was always the risk he’d do the logical thing—like call the police.

So… Pulling him into her problems wouldn’t be smart. Neither would spending time with him. No matter how appealing he was—a man who had a sense of humor, had been hurt by his ex, was a good listener, and could cook.