Cate sat back in her desk chair with a smile on her lips and her chest full of triumph. It had taken all of her morning and most of her energy, but she’d tamed the mountain of work on her desk into a molehill. Okay, so it was a moderately large, sort of messy molehill, but she had to admit it. After two weeks of working at Cross Creek, she was feeling pretty damned good about herself.

Right. And being thoroughly kissed by your boss, not once, but twice, has nothing to do with that.

Her chin sprang up, a prickle of heat washing over the back of her neck and up into her hairline. She’d known Owen would wake up thoroughly hung over and just as distressed once he realized he’d fallen asleep on her. Staying to reassure him once he woke up had seemed practical, and a hell of a lot less awkward than having the conversation here at Cross Creek. Of course, she hadn’t counted on their conversation turning to her past, or actually telling him she’d gotten pregnant unintentionally at eighteen.

One reckless night under the stars. One roll of the dice as a teenager, and her life had changed forever.

And now she wasn’t the only person on the planet who knew it.

Cate straightened in her chair, reaching out to gather the purchase orders in front of her with a brisk snap. Okay, so she’d gone a little more personal with Owen than she’d intended, but her past was still just that. Her past. Obviously, otherwise she wouldn’t have kissed him.

Damn, she’d felt that kiss in her toes. And way down deep in her belly.

And a couple of other places that had been far too neglected lately.

She pushed back from her desk and pushed the thought from her mind. Owen was sexy as hell, and, no, she didn’t regret having kissed him (fine. Twice). But he hardly struck her as a one-night stand kind of guy, and since she was a no strings attached kind of girl, it was probably for the best if that kiss of theirs remained a one and done.

Making him a pound cake really quick might not hurt, though, just to be sure he knew there were no hard feelings. She’d seen both Hunter and Mr. Cross this morning, and they’d encouraged her to make use of the oven any time she wanted. She could replace the ingredients with ones from her own kitchen tomorrow—even when she left the fruits of her labor behind for them to enjoy, it still didn’t feel right to raid their pantry. Plus, she had her whole lunch break in front of her, and that ho-hum package of instant noodles she’d brought from home would take less than five minutes of it.

Thank God.

Mind made up, Cate turned toward the door, her sights set on the Cross’s kitchen. Her heart tapped out a giddy little rhythm at the idea of losing herself in baking. Pound cake could be finicky sometimes, but she prided herself on adding the ingredients in just the right fashion to make the end result both moist and dense.

After heading to the sink for a date with the soap and water, she slid two sticks of butter from the refrigerator with a smile. She preheated the oven, which was a beautiful, sturdy model twice the size and a third of the age of the one in her tiny little kitchen. Cate started by gathering the necessary utensils—hello, hand mixer—and placing them on the counter before rummaging for the rest of her ingredients. Eggs and milk joined the flour, sugar, and vanilla extract she’d been lucky enough to score from the cupboard that held all the spices, although she preferred almond extract in a pound cake for that extra level of flavor.

“Ah, next time,” she said, her heart climbing rapidly into her throat at the sound of a sardonic laugh over her shoulder.

“Next time, what?”

“Oh!” Cate whipped around, the measuring cup that had been in her grasp falling to the ceramic floor tiles with a clatter. The sight of Marley, this time in a black muscle T-shirt and a pair of leggings dotted with brightly colored sugar skulls, registered a second later. “You scared the shit out of me,” Cate said.

The words flew out like an accusation, burning her cheeks upon their exit, but Marley’s lips just quirked slightly.

“I was just trying to get to the coffeepot.” Her piercing, almost navy blue eyes traveled to the appliance in question, which stood a few feet from where Cate had set up shop. “I wasn’t being sneaky or anything. You seemed kind of lost in your own world.”

“A little bit,” Cate admitted, because why the hell not? It was true. “I get kind of focused once I get a task in front of me.”

Marley tilted her head at the ingredients Cate had lined up neatly on the counter, eyeing the mixing bowl and Bundt pan as she moved to grab and fill a coffee mug. “You made that cake thingy we had in the house last week, right? With the strawberries in it?”

“Guilty as charged.” Cate reached to pick up the measuring cup, bringing it to the sink for a quick wash. She didn’t want to be rude, but the clock was ticking on her lunch break, and she couldn’t risk rushing through this pound cake and having it come out wonky.

Not that Marley seemed to notice, let alone mind. “It was good.” She capped the words with a quick shrug. “I mean, at least that’s what I heard. Owen and Hunter and Tobias kind of hogged it.”

God, the don’t touch was strong with this one. Not many people called their own father by his first name. No one Cate had ever met, anyway. “I’m sure if you’d said you wanted some, they’d have saved you a few slices,” Cate said. She filled the ensuing silence by popping the butter into the microwave for a few seconds to get it soft, testing out both sticks with a press of her thumb before returning to the counter to unwrap them and place them in the bowl.

“Whatever.” One slender shoulder rose and fell. “I don’t really eat here if I can help it.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I’m about to make something even better than that quick bread.”

Cate wasn’t trying to wheedle the woman into talking; if anyone respected the whole close-to-the-vest thing, it was definitely her. But with a tight-knit family like the Crosses, she’d bet even money Marley’s indifference wasn’t winning her any fans or favors, just like she’d bet all that bravado was little more than a cover.

“Yeah. I’m just here for the coffee, thanks,” Marley said, lifting her mug. Her tone had lost its sharper edge, though, and she didn’t make a move to leave, and, oh, screw it. Cate had never been one for social graces, anyway.

“I heard your mother passed away recently,” she said, fitting the beaters into the hand mixer with a soft snick. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Marley’s shoulders snapped to attention around her neck, her lips flattening into a thin, pale line. “What do you know about loss?”

Cate paused. But the truth wasn’t anything the woman couldn’t find out from her brothers or anyone else in town—hell, the story followed Cate like a thick, dark storm cloud, always looming—so she said, “A lot, actually. My husband and daughter were killed in a car accident three years ago.”

“Oh.” Marley’s eyes went saucer-wide. Cate used the opportunity to cream the butter and sugar together, the whir of the hand mixer smoothing over what was sure to be an otherwise awkward silence.

“That sucks,” Marley said quietly when Cate finished with the mixer a few minutes later. “I mean”—she dipped her chin in a soft nod—“it’s really sad.”

Cate took a long inhale, gripping the edge of the mixing bowl with one hand and the mixer with the other.

“It is sad,” she agreed, because it was also the truth. Fact. Irrefutable. “But sometimes, it’s how you feel. Mad, too. I felt a lot of both, especially in that first year.”

“And people didn’t, you know, give you crap for being mad a lot of the time?”

Now it was Cate’s turn to shrug. “I kept a lot of it to myself. I didn’t really have many people to talk to.”

“Not even your own mom?” Marley asked, and hell. Cate had been honest up until now. Changing course seemed kind of stupid at this point.

“I’ve never been really close with my parents. They retired and moved to Florida when my daughter was two. They came back to Millhaven for a while after the accident.” Those days full of forced conversations and heavy, awkward silence had been some of Cate’s worst. “But to answer your question, no. I didn’t have anyone to talk to who really understood what I was feeling.”

A sound left Marley’s lips, too joyless to be called a laugh, although that was probably its intent. “Yeah. I get that.”

More quiet stretched through the sun-filled kitchen. Cate waited Marley out, cracking eggs into the bowl and mixing them in one at a time, then measuring the flour and salt into one bowl and just the right amount of milk into another. “Anyway, I know it’s not exactly the same kind of loss, but if you ever feel like you want to talk, I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I don’t,” Marley said, swift and certain. “So, what are you making?”

A subject change Cate would take any day of the week and twice on Sundays, especially since baking was pretty much her version of going to church. “Oh, this? It’s pound cake. Or, I guess, it will be.”

“It smells pretty decent.” Marley’s stare flicked down to the pale yellow batter in the mixing bowl, and Cate had to laugh.

“Anything with this much butter and sugar usually does.”

For one bright instant, she burned to ask Marley if she wanted to help. But she’d already been prickly about Cate’s offer to talk, and anyway, the younger woman wasn’t actively trying to run off like the last time she’d seen her. No sense in giving her a reason to ghost.

“This recipe is one of my favorites, actually,” Cate said instead.

“Because of the butter and sugar?”

“That, too. But the truth is, I like it because it’s kind of a pain.”

From the look on her face, Marley’s laugh surprised them both. “You like it because it’s a pain.”

She peered at Cate from beneath the dark swoop of her bangs, but Cate only nodded. “Mmm hmm.”

“I don’t get it.”

Her pulse accelerated. The calm she always got from baking was spiked on occasion by a shot of proud satisfaction, like the first time she’d gotten the flaky layers and filling of those pain in the ass éclairs just right, or when she’d baked the perfect chocolate lava cake even better than the Pinterest photos. Like all the hard work paid off in the end.

Like she’d been made to get there from the beginning.

“I guess I just feel like the tough stuff gives you more of a sense of accomplishment when you beat the odds and nail it,” Cate said.

All at once, Marley’s arms whipped over her chest, her expression turning stony and shuttered. “That’s a little rah-rah for a bunch of butter and sugar, don’t you think?”

Whoa. “Maybe a little, but—”

Marley’s coffee cup met the counter with a hard clunk. “Yeah, well, I can read between the lines. I’m not some charity case who needs a pep talk to get over my mom. I’m just fine the way I am.”

But as she turned on her heels and stalked out of the kitchen, Cate couldn’t help but think that was far from true.

* * *

Four and a half hours and one pound cake later, the molehill on Cate’s desk had become a speed bump. She still had no less than a dozen major tasks on her To Do list, especially where the storefront project was concerned, but at least now the books were manageable. She had a schedule. Order. A plan.

And, more importantly, her bills were getting paid.

The back door off the kitchen opened with a now-familiar squeak, and the equally familiar sound of boot-steps sounded off on the floorboards in the hallway. Cate’s heart tripped in her chest, and, oh, for the love of Christmas, it had only been a couple of kisses.

Hard, hot kisses that reminded you exactly how long your vagina has been a ghost town…

“Hey,” Owen said, the sight of his tousled, slightly-too-long-but-still-wildly-sexy hair doing nothing to squash the heat growing low in her belly. “Do you have a second?”

Taking a deep breath in an effort to get her girly bits to stand down, Cate said, “Sure. What’s up?”

“The contractors are making really good progress on the storefront. I’d like to be sure the next phase is really solid on the books since it seems we’ll be getting to it on or maybe even a little ahead of schedule.”

“Okay,” she said. She’d put everything he’d given her so far into the system, but it made sense for them to cover the details of the next steps of the project to be sure they were both on the same page.

Cate reached for a pen and a legal pad. But instead of grabbing the spare chair that sat on the other side of the desk so they could get to business, Owen stood firm just two steps inside the doorway. He glanced down at his boots, running a palm over the back of his neck before sliding his gaze back in her direction.

“Actually, I was thinking, if you’re free for dinner, we could go over the plans tonight.” Quickly, he added, “I’d pay you for your time, of course, since it would be work-related, but I’ve got some garlic chicken marinating at home. There’s plenty for both of us. We could kill two birds with one stone.”

Surprise parted her lips, but only for a second before they found the smile that had started in her chest and worked its way up. “The first bird, I get. We’d be talking about the project. But what’s the second one?”

“Oh. Well, the second one is that I’d really like to spend time with you.”

The unabashed honesty of his words made a shiver move through her. “Okay, then. My answer is yes, but on one condition.”

“And that is?”

Cate was certain she shouldn’t flirt with him. Folks were going to start lifting eyebrows and wagging tongues, and she didn’t want the attention. Dodging their whispers was already hard enough, and nothing would ever come of her spending time with a man like Owen Cross.

Yet, still, she heard herself say, “You let me make dessert. A girl can’t go to dinner—even a working one—empty-handed.”

“Deal,” he said, finally breaking into a smile. “I’m going to head over to my place and get cleaned up. How does meeting there in half an hour sound?”

Feeling this good was risky. Dangerous, even. Cate knew that all too well. But right now, in this moment, she didn’t care.

“Great. I’ll be there.”