Christine sighed as she rested against the desk chair. It rocked back from her weight. The ache that had taken up residence in her neck didn’t dull. Desperate for some relief, she reached up and rubbed her shoulder.

As she glanced out the window, her eyes widened. The sun was already below the horizon—sending orange and pink streaking across the sky.

She gazed at the clock on the wall.

Seven o’clock?

She shuffled the stack of papers and stood. Her legs protested as she tried to force life back into them. How had she worked for eight hours straight? When her gaze fell to the two open boxes, she sighed. That’s how she’d lost track. Sean’s grandfather was a lot of things but organized was not one of them.

He had so much information packed into the six boxes that she hadn’t really known where to start. So, instead of driving herself mad, she decided to start with organizing the papers by dates. That had taken up most of her time.

She walked out of the study and into the hallway. After she pulled the door shut behind her, she swept her gaze around. Where was everyone?

Her socks made no noise against the dark wood floor as she made her way toward the kitchen. It was eerily quiet here. No police sirens going off. No rush of evening traffic. The sound of crickets outside was the only thing that broke up the silence.

She made her way over to the fridge and pulled it open. There wasn’t much inside. Some meat and eggs. A squishy apple sat in the back. Christine wrinkled her nose as she shut the door. None of this was going to work.

Besides, if she were completely honest with herself, she was a terrible cook. What looked like a meal waiting to be put together to someone else, only looked like odds and ends to her.

“That’s an interesting expression.”

Sean’s deep, playful voice caused her to jump. Turning, she saw him leaning against the door frame. He was watching her with a smile teasing his lips. His hair was damp. He had on a t-shirt that accented his tanned skin and muscular arms.

Heat instantly raced to her cheeks when she realized that she was staring. Trying to come across as a normal person, she smiled over at him. “Just trying to figure out what to make,” she said, pulling open a cupboard only to realize that it was full of canning jars. “Just not in there,” she said under her breath.

“Yeah, there isn’t a lot that you can make with jars,” he said.

From the corner of her eye she saw him push off the wall and walk into the kitchen. Well, more sauntered in. As if he owned the place. Which he did. What was the matter with her?

She should not be thinking any of the thoughts that were rolling around in her mind. He was the client getting investigated. That was all. She needed to remember that.

He pulled out the barstool from the counter and patted the cushion. “Why don’t you take a seat and let the master work.”

Christine studied the seat. Part of her wanted to run from the room. To leave this place and all the confusing cowboys that lived here. The other part wanted to see just what exactly he could whip up from a soft apple and meat. So, she shrugged and sat. “This should be interesting.”

Sean moved over to the fridge, where he studied her. “What should be interesting?”

She motioned toward the fridge. “Seeing what you can make from the contents in there.”

Sean laughed as he pulled out the eggs and steak. “Oh, ye of little faith. This is something my granny always taught me. On a ranch, all you need is a few good staples and you can make just about anything.”

Christine studied him as a forlorn expression passed over his face. Something had happened in his family and she had a suspicion that it had something to do with his grandmother. From the way his grandfather had been holding the picture frame earlier, she must have passed away.

Was it strange that she wanted to know what that was? Would it be weird to ask? Perhaps she should take a less direct route. She smiled and rested her arm on the counter. “She sounds like quite the woman.”

Sean had grabbed some flour from the cupboard next to the stove and nodded. “She was.” Then he pinched his lips together as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

A familiar ache rose up in Christine’s chest. She knew what it was like to lose someone close to her. Both sets of her grandparents had passed away in the last five years. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she traced the counter top with her fingertips.

Sean set the flour next to the meat and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if he too were trying to keep his emotions at bay. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It was hard.”

Christine’s heart swelled from his confession. For the first time since she’d gotten here, she felt as if he were opening up to her, and that made her both excited and scared. She wanted to learn more. To speak openly with him. Was that too much to ask?

“How’s your grandpa taking it?”

Sean paused and glanced over at her and then toward the living room. “It’s hard for him. They’d been married since he was nineteen.”

Christine raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s young.”

Sean shrugged as he got out a bowl. “Back then, it wasn’t. Besides, when you’re in love—you’re in love. There’s really not much to it.” He set the bowls down in front of him then returned to the fridge and removed a jug of milk.

If only it were that simple. Trouble was, Christine was having a hard time finding anyone who wanted to love her back. She had just about enough heartbreak to swear dating and marriage off completely.

Before her head caught up with her mouth, she blurted out, “Have you ever been in love like that?” Just as the words left her lips her heart began to pound. How could she be such an idiot? “Er—I mean—” But then she clamped her mouth shut. There was really no redeeming herself from that question.

Sean was dumping flour into a bowl when he glanced up at her. “Are you asking me if I’ve ever been married or if I’ve been in love like that?”

Thankful that he hadn’t written her off as an idiot, Christine sat back on the barstool. “Both.”

Sean cracked some eggs into another bowl. “Neither. Moose Falls isn’t exactly bursting at the seams with eligible women. And if you go into the city, not a lot of women want to give up their cushy lifestyle to be a rancher’s wife.” He grabbed a whisk and began beating the eggs.

Christine watched the movement. It mesmerized her. On one hand, she understood what he was saying. It was like a different world here. It was alive. It breathed and beat to its own rhythm. But that was what was so amazing about it.

“I didn’t understand, but I think I’m starting to,” she confessed, keeping her gaze trained on the counter in front of her. When Sean didn’t reply, she looked over at him. Had she said the wrong thing? Just her luck, she’d scared him off. Maybe this was what Parker had meant when he told her she dove into her assignments head first. That she allowed herself to care too much for those she was auditing.

Braving his reaction, Christine lifted her gaze to meet his. He was studying her with a confused look on his face. Like he was trying to figure her out. Truth was, she wasn’t too complicated. When her gaze met his, he held it for a moment before he cleared his throat and turned his focus back to the eggs in front of him.

“Have you ever had chicken fried steak?” he asked as he returned to whipping the contents of the bowl.

“Once,” she said. “My grandpa grew up in the south. He made it for me when I stayed with him.”

Sean nodded. “Good. I’m gonna make you some.” He glanced up at her as he nodded toward the steak that was sitting on the counter. “But where I come from, everyone helps.”

Christine laughed. “You don’t understand. I’m the worst cook.”

Sean shook his head. “Then it’s a good thing you aren’t cooking. I need you to pound the meat.”

“You want me to what?”

Sean set the bowl and whisk down on the counter and pulled open a drawer to reveal a mallet. “This is what you use,” he said, waving her over.

Christine hesitated. How was she going to get him to understand that this really was a bad idea?

He laughed, a soulful laugh. His eyes crinkled at the sides, and his lips parted showing perfectly straight teeth.

Was he laughing at her? She pushed away from the counter and made her way over to him. For some reason, his laughing bugged her. She knew she was a bad cook, but it wasn’t like he had experience with it.

She stood next to him and reached for the mallet. Even though every time she had ever tried to hang a picture, she ended up hitting her thumb more times than the nail, she wasn’t going to let this cowboy think she couldn’t hammer a steak.

“So, how does one do this?” she asked, waving it toward him.

Sean grabbed the package of meat and unwrapped it. He laid it down on the counter, covered it with wax paper, and motioned toward it. “You take the mallet and begin whacking it. You hit it until it’s flat.”

Christine stared at the steak and then the mallet. That sounded easy enough. She raised the mallet and brought it down, striking the steak. It mocked her as it bounced back. Okay, maybe this wasn’t as easy as she thought it was going to be.

Sean laughed again. Christine shot him her most menacing glare. “Why do you keep doing that?”

Sean pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “You act all tough, but if we were depending on your ability to hit meat, we’d starve.”

Christine attempted to hit the meat again only to end up with the same result. “I’m hitting it, but nothing is happening.”

Suddenly, the feeling of Sean’s arms around her stopped her in her tracks. She breathed in as he pressed against her back. He grabbed her hands and brought up the one that was holding the mallet.

“You need to hit it harder,” he said. His voice was breathy against her ear and sent shivers down her spine.

Did he notice what his close proximity was doing to her? Her mind was clouded, and her knees felt like Jell-O. She held onto the counter in front of her with all her strength. If he backed away now, she was pretty sure she’d collapse to the floor.

He raised the mallet and brought it down. The meat didn’t bounce back in a mocking jolt. Instead, with each swift swing, it began to flatten.

After a minute, Sean stopped and dropped her hands.

“Make sense?” he asked and then cleared his throat.

Christine just peered over at him. He’d moved over to the stove, where he got out a cast iron skillet and placed it on a burner. After lighting the burner and filling the pan with oil, he turned around.

Embarrassment flooded her skin as she turned back and began hitting the meat. Each time with more force. Finally, it was flattened uniformly, so Sean took it and began to bread it. While he fried it in the pan, Christine began working on the next one.

She hadn’t noticed that he’d come back until he spoke.

“So, how about you? Have you ever had any of those love-no-matter-what relationships?” He had his arms crossed and was leaning his hip against the counter.

Christine glanced over at him as she swung the mallet up. The playful expression on his face caused her to lose her focus for a minute. Just as she brought it down, she winced and yelped. She’d brought the mallet down on her finger.

Sean was to her side in a moment, grabbing her hand and looking at her injury. “You okay?” he asked as he inspected it.

Christine winced as the throbbing pain shot up her arm. But the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers was conflicting with the ache coming from her nail. “I think so,” she breathed out.

Sean motioned for her to follow him to the sink. He flipped on the faucet and stuck her hand underneath. The cool water shocked her system.

“Let me get you some ice,” he said as he walked over to the freezer and pulled open the door. After he put a few cubes in a bag, he turned off the water and motioned to the barstool she’d left earlier. “Why don’t you go have a seat and I’ll finish up.”

Grateful for the opportunity to get away from the meat and Sean’s close proximity, Christine nodded and did what he said.

Once she settled in, Sean started smacking the meat. In record time, the steak was flat and breaded and sizzling in the frying pan. While it cooked, Sean pulled out a pot and got it heating.

Christine spent the whole time just watching him. Trying to figure him out. He seemed so rough on the outside, but when it came to things that mattered, he was different.

From his reaction to her hitting her finger, to the care he showed his grandfather earlier, all of it intrigued her. Drew her in. Made her want to know more about this cowboy. And that scared her.

She swallowed as she dropped her gaze and focused on the ice cubes that were resting on her finger. It was time she got her head on straight—before she did something she’d regret. Something she just might not be able to come back from. Self-preservation was the smartest thing for her. And she needed to protect herself now, before it was too late.