“That’s not a bad analogy.” He sighed. “You never heard from your father, after he left?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear from him. He walked out without a word to me, deserted me, for a woman he barely knew. My mother had a lot of lovers before she ended up with Henry,” she added bitterly. “I wouldn’t wish my childhood on my worst enemy.”

“You’re just like me,” he said absently. “Living in the past and can’t move forward.”

She grimaced. “Maybe so.”

“Are you in love with McGuire?” he shot at her.

She caught her breath, her eyes huge as they met his. “I hardly… I hardly even know him,” she stammered.

“He’s a rounder,” he said shortly. He knew that, because McGuire ran in the same social circles that he frequented himself. He’d heard stories about the rancher, even though they were only distant acquaintances.

“Well, look who’s talking,” she retorted, glancing at him as she went back to work, her hands covered in dough. “I’ve never met a cowboy who didn’t have a girl in every rodeo town!”

He bit his lower lip to keep the words back. He wasn’t just a cowboy, but the rounder part was true. He was a pot, calling the kettle black.

“Women are a permissible pleasure,” he said lazily. “I have no plans to marry and settle down and start changing diapers,” he added. It was a lie, but he wasn’t about to encourage Little Miss Muffet, here. He had to marry a woman from his own class, not some rustic cowgirl who wouldn’t know a dessert fork from a butter knife. Why did that bother him? She wasn’t even his type. Ida was.

“I don’t want to get married, either,” she confessed quietly.

He frowned. “Why not?” he asked. “Don’t you want kids?”

She felt hot all over, just thinking about them when he was standing so close to her. The way she’d felt in his arms was scary. She wanted him. She hadn’t known she was vulnerable.

He watched her cheeks color with fascination. If she was really experienced, that flush wasn’t something she could fake.

“Kids are nice, I guess,” she said after a minute. “I’ve never been around them much.”

“Two of my brothers have toddlers,” he said quietly. He smiled, reminiscing. “I don’t live close enough to visit often, but I like my niece and my nephews.”

“How many brothers do you have?” she asked.

“Three. And they’re all in law enforcement.”

She smiled. “Are they older than you?”

“All of them are. You don’t have siblings, do you?”

“None at all. It was a lonely life, even when my father was still at home. He wasn’t, much. Law enforcement takes you out at all hours.”

He recalled that her father had been a policeman. “You’d know, I guess.”

She nodded.

“You like to cook, don’t you?” he remarked as she finished the piecrusts and covered them with clear wrap.

“Very much.”