As soon as the SUV disappears down the road, I feel like a total asshole. They don’t know what I do, which is that the roads will almost definitely be closed before Kyle can get back here tonight. I should have told Julia so they could find a hotel for the night. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I want her here. There’s no denying it. Even though I’m playing with fire, I want her to stay.

She seats herself at my kitchen table and gets out her laptop while I wash my hands and take the ingredients out of the fridge to make supper. “How do you feel about meat?”

“Excuse me?” she asks, looking up from her computer with a little grin.

I shake my head at my stupid question. “I’m making beef stew for supper. Do you eat meat?”

“Love it,” she says, “But you don’t have to cook for me. I’m sure Kyle will be back soon and we can get out of your hair.”

I put the carrots in the sink to scrub them. “He might be a while on these roads.”

I get to work, listening to the tapping of her fingers on the keyboard. I could get used to that sound. There’s something hypnotic about it.

After a few minutes, she gets up and stands next to me at the counter. “A big, tough cowboy who cooks…”

I turn my head and look down at her, liking her description of me. “My momma taught me right.”

“Mine, too. How can I help?” she asks.

“You could chop up these carrots.” I hand her the orange veggies, letting my fingers brush against her soft skin.

She stares up at me for a second and it’s all I can do not to kiss her. Then I remember that I have a million reasons not to.

We work together well, laughing and chatting while we get everything into the big pot. Once it’s simmering away, she washes the cutting boards and pan that I used to brown the stew meat in, and I dry. There’s something about this simple task that feels right. I ask her about herself and find out she’s an only child. Her dad died when she was twelve and her mother never remarried, so it was always just the two of them. I tell her about my own childhood, which sounds like the complete opposite of hers—big family. Four boys, one sister, both my parents are still alive and happy together. I find myself wanting to share everything about me and have to remind myself that she’s just here for the next few hours. Then she’ll be gone.

Her cell phone rings. “It’s Kyle,” she tells me, then she turns her back and answers it.

“What do you mean shut down?”

I pang of guilt hits me. I should have told her.

“Well, when will they have them open again?” She pauses. “But, we’re supposed to be in Helena tomorrow afternoon.” Pause. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Pause. “Okay, keep in touch over the evening so we can figure out our next move.”

When she hangs up, she looks up at me with a concerned expression.

“Let me guess? The road’s closed?”

She nods and fiddles with the sleeve of her dress. “I’m really sorry. I should have gone with him.”

“No need to apologize. I have plenty of room and lots of food.” And an empty spot in my bed for you.

“I’m sure the last thing you need this week is a strange houseguest.”

I give her a sideways grin. “You’re a little strange, but I like you anyway.”

Julia laughs, seeming to relax some.

“Since you’re here for the night, how about a glass of wine?”

“That’s probably a terrible idea, but I’ll take you up on it.”

“Why’s it a terrible idea?”

“I’m a cheap drunk.”

“Well, then you’re my favorite kind of girl.” I grab two glasses from the cupboard, then take a bottle of red out of the liquor cabinet.

I uncork the bottle and pour us each a glass while she stirs the stew. I like the sight of her there at my stove in that dress. I’d like to see her out of it, too, but the way it hugs her curves gives me some ideas I’ve got no business thinking.

I walk up behind her, standing so close I can smell her again. “How’s dinner coming?”

She turns a little, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s going to be a while before the potatoes are tender.”

“Still hard, then?” I ask, leaning in a bit more so my lips almost graze her cheek.

“Very hard.” She puts the wooden spoon down and turns to me so that our bodies are almost pressed together.

I hand her a glass of wine and take a big swig of my drink to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to bed. She does the same and when she pulls her glass away from her mouth, there’s a drop of wine on her lips. I’m overcome by the urge to lick it off, but I don’t. Instead, I lift my hand and wipe it away with my thumb, then lick my thumb. Julia flushes and looks up at me under those long eyelashes, her chest heaving with her breath. The heat between us is intense, like a forest fire out of control.

I shake my head. “How’s the wine?”

“Delicious.”

“Most terrible ideas are.”

“I know what you mean.” Her voice is almost a whisper and I know what she wants. But I can’t give it to her. Not when I’m feeling what I’m feeling about her. Not when I’m going to see her again in Vegas, during the most important week of my life.

It takes every ounce of willpower to move away from her. I pour myself another wine, hoping to put out these flames. She walks over and holds her glass out to me. When I turn to her, I start to pour it, then pause. “You sure? You said you’re a cheap drunk.”

“I’m feeling a little reckless this evening.” She gives me a look that only means one thing.

I try to ignore it and pour her another drink.