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Chapter Four

Saturdays were always slammed at the bakery. When Samantha got back to Jace’s that evening she was carrying a box of unfrosted sugar cookies and a tube of red icing, and she was ready to fall over.

“You’re late tonight,” Jace said when she walked through the door.

“Tidings of comfort and joy!” she said, holding out the cookies.

“Busy day?”

“Yes,” she groaned, setting the box on the sideboard that was just by the door. Then she took off her gloves, her hat and her coat and put them on the floor. “Where is Poppy?”

“I set her free. Back into the wild where she belongs. She should be making her way back to the Canadian wilderness as we speak.”

“Jace, where is my dog?”

“In front of the fireplace. She had a busy day following me around. I think she’s out of shape.”

“Yeah, we don’t do much in the way of ranching. ”

“I didn’t figure. She did like playing in the snow though.”

“Aw, fun. I’ll have to go out with you both for a while tomorrow. Sunday, my blessed day of rest,” she said.

“Holiday orders getting heavy?”

“Around Thanksgiving I made so many pies my fingers were curled into claws for days, and it hasn’t slowed down much. Mince pies, apple pies, pumpkin pies. I have a special order in for a cherpumple.”

His dark eyebrows locked together. “What fresh hell is that?”

“It’s a pie inside a cake.”

“That’s wrong. You can’t put a pie inside a cake.”

“You can.”

“It doesn’t mean you should.”

“Some power-mad baker decided to wreak havoc with the order of the universe, I guess. I don’t know what to tell you,” she said.

Jace took his hat off and smoothed his hair, his muscles shifting beneath his tight T-shirt. He and Poppy must have just gotten back because he rarely wore a hat inside. “I like things to make sense. To go where they belong.”

He walked over to the coat closet and put the black Stetson up on the top shelf, then left the door standing open. A clear invitation for her to put her own stuff away.

She wouldn’t even grumble about it. She picked up her coat and other accessories and brought them to the closet, placing her hat next to his, and then put her gloves on the shelf by the door, right on top of Jace’s leather Carhartts.

She grinned at him in triumph. “I can adapt,” she said.

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t very well.”

“Aw, be adventurous. Try a cherpumple.”

“I’m letting a dog sleep by my fireplace. I think that’s enough adventure in my life for the time being. I’m not eating some unholy dessert mash-up.”

“A cherpumple and a romantic comedy.”

“A beer and Die Hard Two .”

“Bah!” She smiled at him and her stomach tightened. She took a deep breath and headed toward the kitchen, scooping up the cookies along the way. “Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

“I made dinner,” he said.

“You...made dinner?”

“Yes, you can have some.”

“I thought you just got in.”

“I came in and put chili in the slow cooker and then went back out for a while. I usually live on my own, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “But I kind of picture you being a little more helpless than that. Your kitchen doesn’t look used.”

“Clean. It looks clean.”

“Ahahaha. Funny, funny. Where is this chili?”

“In the Crock-Pot, waiting for you.”

Again she couldn’t shake the feeling of the domestic. And a little bit of bliss. Domestic bliss. She’d been short on that in her life. She wasn’t sure what she thought about feeling it now, in this situation, with Jace.

She hadn’t ever felt this with guys she’d slept with. She’d never felt at ease having them in her space. Which, when you were in a long-term relationship with someone, obviously wasn’t very good. And that was maybe why they’d ended up dumping her.

Man #1, Mike, had lasted for two years. Two years of dates, the occasional dinner and night in and then an unceremonious boot in the morning so she could get back to her life.

Man #2, Caleb, had lasted a fleeting three months and hadn’t made it into her bed. Poor bastard. He’d always been called out at third base. No chance of sliding in home.

Man #3, David, had lasted a record four years. Until he’d wanted them to move in together. And the idea had felt so close to permanent it had given her the shakes.

Two years since that horrific breakup and she’d been sort of happily without.

So, in all honesty, she’d spent a long time avoiding domestic bliss. That she was liking it now, with Jace, was more than a little disturbing. Because Jace didn’t want it. And making any move toward it might alienate the one constant in her life.

The simple truth was, she loved Jace. Not that she was in love with him or anything, but she loved him. He was like a part of her. So deeply ingrained she didn’t know what she would do without him.

Which was maybe the root of some of her relationship trouble. Jace was the most important person in her world. That meant her boyfriends always came second. And they didn’t like that.

And a husband couldn’t come second to a friend. So that made things…impossible.

Just dating was almost impossible. David and Jace had not been each other’s biggest fans.

And it wasn’t entirely Jace’s fault. Or David’s really.

But David had been understandably iffy about his girlfriend going to another man’s house, alone, late at night to watch movies.

And Jace had been understandably pissed that David had suspected they would fool around behind his back.

And she’d been understandably pissed about it too, but if she’d been in David’s place she would have been a little suspicious as well.

That had just been a big mess. And while her attachment to Jace hadn’t ended the relationship, it hadn’t helped either.

She shook off her decidedly downbeat musings and headed toward the Crock-Pot, filling a bowl with chili, cheese and corn chips. “Nom,” she said. “Thank you. It’s kind of nice to have someone cook for me.”

“Has anyone ever cooked for you?” he asked.

“Not really. Mrs. Brown used to bake for me. And she made us both cheese sandwiches for lunch.”

“Oh...I remember those,” he said. “Mayonnaise and cheese on white bread.”

“It was nice to have someone care enough to feed me.” She swallowed past a rising lump in her throat. “Anyway, it was nice then, and it’s nice now.”

“It’s nice to have you here.”

“I’m been making your life hell, but thanks for saying that.”

“No. Really. It reminds of me of how things were. I mean, the good things. Because Lord knows there was a bunch of crap. But...there was good. And you were a huge part of that.”

“Thanks. You too. For me, I mean.”

“Tomorrow we should have cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise,” he said.

“I’ll pack them for lunch. I really do want to follow you around while you work for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m proud of you. Of what you have here.”

“I had help getting it.”

“And you were smart enough to take help. You should be proud of that too. Neither of us had anything growing up. I had whatever tiny apartment my mom could get us into. Whatever food we could cook on a little individual burner in one pan. And hey, sometimes we just lived in cars. And then there was your house...”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve come a long way, baby,” she said.

“I know.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing how things have changed since the last time I did an extensive tour. Normally I just come sit on your couch.”

His whole face changed. Pride. Contentment. Oh, she loved to see all that there. He deserved it. “You’ll love it. I’m experimenting with the best time of year to calve. These babies were born in October.”

“And they’re probably mad at you since you stole their testosterone.”

“That’s how it works,” he said.

“You wouldn’t be so cavalier if it was your testosterone we were talking about.”

“Are you acknowledging I have it?”

“What? Naturally. Your chest hair doesn’t come from your rampant estrogen, and I know about your chest hair since I tried to make a pancake on it yesterday.”

“You did.”

“Thought maybe I could cook it on your skin. ’Cuz you’re so hot.”

“Ha ha.”

“See? I acknowledge your...” The light in his eyes changed and her sentence died on her lips. He looked so intense, so focused for a moment that she thought he might...that he might be intending to...

And now he was staring at her lips .

Oh no .

Oh yes .

No. No, no, no.

Her inner hedonist and her inner doomsday prophet were locked in an epic battle. One thrilled about the potential for a kiss. The other screeching about it bringing about the end of days. And unfortunately, the little bitch with the sandwich board was right. It was a recipe for doom. Dooooom.

“Your testosterone,” she finished, kicking her brain into gear and taking a step back from him. “It is in full working order. Beer and Die Hard Two ! Let’s do this thing.”

She stalked into the living room, her heart beating so hard her pulse echoed in her temple. This time, it was all Jace’s fault. He couldn’t look at her like that and expect her to maintain sanity and purity of thought. She was on a two-year sex hiatus. And he was hot.

And she was a red-blooded woman with urges and needs. Urges and needs that were going to have to calm the hell down because she was not, under any circumstances, going to kiss Jace Colter.

No, she was not.

She sat down on the couch and closed her eyes, waiting for Jace and imagining warm summer days spent on a grassy hill.

Away from home. Away from the crazy for Jace.

Away from the empty for her. And she thought of mayonnaise and cheese sandwiches.

And how no matter what, Jace had been by her side.

How he’d supported her through everything.

Nothing was worth risking that. Nothing at all.