“And you want to know something else, cowboy?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I wanted to kiss you and I’m not one tiny bit sorry that I did. The only difference between us is that I readily admit that I want to kiss you until your boots fly off and a whole lot more.”
When she turned to walk away, his voice sounded strained when he asked, “Where are you going?”
“I have things I need to do,” she said as she walked toward the pantry on shaky legs to resume putting things on the shelves.
He cleared his throat. “You can’t just kiss me like that and then walk away.”
“Why not?” she asked, turning to give him a pointed look. “That’s what you do.”
Before he had a chance to say anything else, she went into the pantry and, picking up a couple of boxes of snack crackers, stared at the labels without really seeing them. She had never done anything like that in her entire life. But it was time to treat Mr. Jaron Lambert to a dose of his own medicine. If he could kiss her and walk away as if it meant nothing, so could she. And if he thought he was going to convince her there was nothing between them, he was sadly mistaken. She might not be as experienced as he was, but she wasn’t that naive. There was something holding him back, and she wasn’t even contemplating trying to find another job until she discovered what it was.
Several hours later, Mariah put bags of noodles and pasta in lined sea-grass baskets and placed them on the shelves. Standing back, she proudly surveyed the labels she’d made and how organized everything looked.
“Don’t worry about making supper tonight,” Jaron said, causing her to jump.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said, catching her breath.
“Do what?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“Sneaking up on me like that,” she retorted. Lost in thought, she hadn’t realized he had come back into the house again.
“I’ll try to make more noise from now on,” he said, smiling. “I wanted to tell you not to worry about making supper tonight. After I take a quick shower, I’ll drive over to Beaver Dam and get a couple of steak dinners for us.”
“Why? I thought part of my job description is to cook your meals,” she said, frowning.
“You’ve worked hard all afternoon getting the pantry organized and all this food put away,” he said, leaning one shoulder against the door frame as he crossed his arms over his wide chest. “You have to be tired. You can start cooking tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, breathing a little easier as he turned to leave.
At least Jaron buying dinner would give her one more night without having to prepare a meal. He was going to learn soon enough that she had no idea what she was doing in a kitchen, and the longer she could put that off, the better.
Walking back into the kitchen, she watched him disappear down the hall to go upstairs. She was going to do her best and try to make things that he could actually eat. But she wasn’t overly confident that would happen for a while. The poor man thought he had hired a woman who could make delicious meals with little or no effort like her sister. He had no idea that Mariah hadn’t been born with the cooking gene.
* * *
“Hey, Jaron! We didn’t expect to see your sorry hide in here tonight.”
When Jaron turned to see who was calling to him, he groaned. He hadn’t expected to see two of his brothers at the Broken Spoke either when he went to pick up his and Mariah’s supper. But sure enough, there were Ryder McClain and T. J. Malloy sitting at a table toward the back of the room, grinning at him like a couple of fools.
Giving his order for the steak dinners and a bottle of beer to the bartender, Jaron took his beer and walked over to sit down in one of the empty chairs at their table. “I assume I’m doing the same thing you two are doing. Along with this beer, I just ordered a couple of steak dinners for supper.”
T.J. grinned as he cut into the steak in front of him. “A couple? You must be real hungry.”
“And you’re doing carryout? I’d say you’re going to be entertaining a lady tonight,” Ryder speculated, laughing.
“Anyone we know?” T.J. asked without missing a beat.
Jaron could have kicked himself for mentioning he had ordered two dinners. He should have known that his brothers would want to know who would be eating the other steak.
“I hired a housekeeper,” Jaron said, hoping to avoid an inquisition. “She spent the day shopping and stocking the pantry. I figured I’d give her a break and have her start cooking tomorrow.”