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“I’ll have you know I cook for the boys three times a week,” he said, winking at me.

“The boys?”

“The Crew.Well, I guess there’s a girl in it now, too, if you count Pen.”

“Penelope works on the ranch?”I asked, shocked.

“Um, well, not exactly.But she’s engaged to Max, so that means she’s Crew,” he said, as if that cleared it all up.

“Well, I’m just really impressed you can cook.I never met a man who could,” I said as he led the way into the tidy little kitchen.

“Then prepare to be astounded,” he said with a wink and went to wash his hand after guiding me to a chair at the eat in counter.

“So, you live here full time?”I asked, liking the warmth of his cabin.

It was an honest to goodness log cabin.A little larger than my doublewide and without the crappy appliances and drafty windows.

“Yeah.Do you, uh, like it?”he asked, rinsing off some broccoli in a metal colander and setting it aside.

“I do.Very much so,” I whispered.

The furniture appeared to be made out of wood, and the appliances were stainless-steel and looked to be new.Everything matched, which was like a secret dream of mine.

There was a large leather couch and a big screen TV in the living room.A small table set with two chairs was set up in what I assumed was a dining room.The floor plan was open, so it was not easy to tell where one room started or stopped, but it worked.A staircase sat in the far corner, and I assumed it led to the bedroom.

Gulp.

My cheeks heated just thinking that and Emmet’s gaze flashed to mine.

“I’ll give you a tour after dinner if you like,” he said, and I nodded.

He worked quickly and confidently, and I wondered if that was just the way he did everything.

“What are you doing with that?”I asked, watching as he slid a long filleting knife inside a large turkey London broil.

“I’m going to stuff it with garlic butter and herbs,” he informed me, and I watched, impressed, as he did just that.

Emmet seasoned the meat liberally with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of EVOO.Then he took a box of pasta out of the pantry and set a pot with water on the stove to boil.

Next, he placed the turkey under the broiler and removed a cube of cheddar cheese from the fridge.

“Wine or beer?”he asked, pulling a chilled bottle of Chardonnay from a local vineyard out of the fridge.

“Sure,” I replied, nodding at the wine.

Emmet poured, and I sipped, and twenty minutes later, he dished up beautifully cooked slices of turkey and heaping scoops of macaroni with cheese and broccoli.

We sat side by side at the counter, instead of utilizing the table, and I had to admit, I liked this better.My blood hummed in my veins, attraction simmering between us.

Every time I moved, I felt him beside me.His big body was so close, but still not close enough.It was the most delicious sort of foreplay.

“This is amazing,” I moaned around another perfect bite of pasta.

“You can say that again,” he replied, his eyes glued to my lips.

“Sorry.I’m making a pig out of myself,” I murmured, covering my mouth with my hand while I reached for a napkin.

His hand shot out, lightning fast, and he closed his long fingers around my wrist, stopping my progress.