The Rancher's Rules

Zoe fought to hide a smile. “I guess she doesn’t like rodents, huh?”

“No. I don’t think she likes me much anymore either.”

Zoe could not lie and say she was sorry. She looked around the kitchen and took in the half-prepared dinner. “You didn’t eat yet?”

He shook his head. “No.” His stomach rumbled.

The poor guy was starving. Looking at the pasta draining in the strainer, and the half-prepared white sauce, Zoe figured she could finish dinner. She started pulling ingredients from the bags. “Run some hot water over the pasta to reheat it.”

Grant nodded. He picked up a bowl of salad, the lettuce obviously wilted from sitting coated in dressing. “I guess this is a goner.”

“Yeah.” She peered into the bowl. “We’ll have to have cooked vegetables.”

“Okay. No asparagus, though. I’m, uh, not in the mood.”

She turned her face to hide the grin his words provoked. “I saw a bag of California Blend in the freezer last night. Pull it out. We’ll nuke it with a little butter and Parmesan.”

She finished the white sauce, adding the canned salmon Carlene had left behind, while Grant reheated the pasta and cooked the vegetables. She made a mental note to drop off replacement ingredients with Carlene sometime the following week. Zoe hoped that would allay some of her current feelings of guilt. After all, she’d been responsible for ruining the date…and losing the hamster. She sighed and grabbed the last bag on the counter to empty its contents.

Suddenly Grant’s hand shot in front of her and snatched the sack. “We don’t need this stuff. It was for dessert.”

Zoe made a grab for the brown paper. “Great. I deserve something sweet after cooking your dinner.”

Grant did not release his hold on the bag. “Not this.”

“Why not? Did Carlene buy some expensive dessert and you’ll feel guilty eating it without her?”

He coughed. “Uh. No.”

“Look, whatever it is, I’ll replace it tomorrow. I’m in the mood for sugar.” She yanked on the bag.

“No, Zoe.” He yanked it back.

The paper tore. A spray can of whipped cream, a squeeze bottle of chocolate sauce and a small jar of maraschino cherries tumbled onto the counter between them. “Mmm. Looks good. What kind of ice cream did she bring to go with this?”

Grant did not answer. Zoe looked at him. He would not meet her eyes. Puzzled, she looked from him to the toppings and then back at him again. “Come on, Grant. What kind did she bring? Sinful Pleasures or something?”

“Look, let’s just get dinner on the table. I’m starving.”

Fine. She’d see for herself. Moving across the kitchen, she still could not fathom what had him so embarrassed. She opened the freezer door and rooted around inside. She closed it, and then turned to face Grant. “There isn’t any ice cream.”

Grant frowned. “I know.”

“Did you forget to buy it?”

“No.”

“What good are ice cream toppings without ice cream?”

Maybe that was why Grant had acted so strangely about her opening the bag. She looked back over to the counter at the toppings. Sudden understanding stabbed at her with the pain of a branding iron. “You. Planned. To. Have. Carlene. For. Dessert.”

How could he do this? She knew Grant wasn’t chaste, but this? To her knowledge he wasn’t into one-night stands, and this was his first date with Carlene. He hadn’t even slept with his last girlfriend. He’d be furious to find out that she knew, but women talked…just like men.

Zoe felt her throat clog with tears. She had to get out of there before she made an idiot of herself. She was definitely overreacting, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She whipped around toward the door. “Leave a bowl of food out for Bud. He’ll get hungry and come out.”

She rushed into the mudroom and grabbed her coat. Jerking it on, she cursed her impulse to feed Grant. If she hadn’t finished making dinner, she never would have known about his plans with Carlene and her heart would not be breaking in a million bitty pieces on the linoleum of the mudroom floor.

Just why her heart was involved at all was not something she wanted to dissect right now.

She did not make it three steps to the door. Grant spun her around, keeping a firm hold on her upper arms. “I did not plan anything. You know me better than that.”

“I thought I did.”

“You do, damn it.”

She glared at him, her eyes blurred with tears she refused to shed. “Then what were you going to do with ice cream toppings? Eat them on top of crackers?”

“I was not going to do anything with them.”