Shane showered as fast as lightning struck and took the extra minutes to shave, brush his teeth, and maybe he even splashed on an extra bit of cologne. Robin’s words—I’m interested in you—had been screaming in his mind for hours.

He pulled the chicken from the microwave and found it mostly thawed. So he got the cast iron skillet on the stove and poured vegetable oil in it. He put together flour, salt, pepper, and a pinch of cayenne before mixing up eggs and a splash of milk.

A knock came on the door, and he practically dumped the dredge on the floor when he jumped. He’d wanted to confirm with Kurt that his younger brothers would be kept working, but he didn’t want to explain why. So he’d said nothing.

And they wouldn’t knock anyway. They’d probably come in during dinner, too. And he couldn’t do anything about that.

He pulled open the door to the flirty, fun sight of Robin standing on his front porch. “Hey, there.” He leaned against the doorjamb and drank in her wavy, blonde hair, that cute smattering of freckles across her cheeks, and the pink sundress that made his throat dry.

“Hey, yourself.” She tipped up on her toes and swept her lips across his cheek. He froze, his lungs seemingly encased in ice, the scent of powder and flowers stuck in his nose as Robin swept past him and into the cabin, all while holding a white appliance under her arm.

He finally turned, looking at her and then back to the empty porch, with another cabin across the lane. He couldn’t believe she’d come here to meet him. To eat with him. To spend time with him, and—his hand drifted to where her lips had touched—kiss him.

After managing to get the door closed, he ran his hands down his thighs and tried to fill his lungs with a confident breath of air. This was Robin Cook, the woman who’d starred in his dreams for three years.

Slow down, cowboy, he told himself. Just because they’d shared an amazing day, stuck in a remote cabin playing cards, and talking, and laughing didn’t mean they were together. So she’d admitted she was interested in him. She’d probably only said that because he’d been so obvious about his perpetual interest in her.

But he had zero interest in having his heart stomped on again, and Robin was only going to be here for five weeks.

His hopes swooped to the ceiling and then crashed to the floor, along with his heart. She was only going to be here for five weeks.

Five weeks.

So whatever had prompted him to put on that extra cologne was completely ridiculous. Whatever she’d said as hail pummeled the roof of that remote cabin didn’t matter.

Time couldn’t be stopped, just like Robin’s spirit couldn’t be lassoed. So this just had to be chicken and waffles. Dinner. Something to eat because they’d both been forced to skip lunch.

Robin was busy plugging in her waffle maker and then she looked up at him. “So I actually make waffles from a boxed mix.” She shook the pancake mix. “Do you have a bowl?”

He could be nice during the five weeks, so he said, “Yeah, I have a bowl.” He pulled out the drawers in the cabinet next to the sink and produced a mixing bowl for her. It probably hadn’t been used in a while, but it looked clean enough.

She moved around his kitchen like she’d cooked there a dozen times before, and Shane sort of stood back and watched as she cracked eggs and added milk to her powdered pancake mix. She finally turned to him and put her hands on her hips. “What?”

“What? Nothing.” He looked down at the seasoned flour he’d made as if it were an alien substance and he had no idea what to do with it. The stove made a cracking sound, and he remembered he’d turned on the flame under the cast iron skillet.

“You were starin’ at me,” Robin teased, her voice set high on flirt. “And I need a whisk.”

He opened a drawer filled with larger kitchen utensils and half turned away from her. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Were to.” She whisk-whisk-whisked her batter together while he cracked eggs and salted them too.

“I was actually surprised you came,” he said. “That’s all.”

The whisking stuttered and stalled. “Shane, of course I came.”

He picked up a piece of chicken and dipped it in the egg mixture. “So I guess I’m just wondering what changed your mind.”

“Besides three years going by?”

“So I wasn’t mature enough for you? Is that what you’re saying?” Maybe his voice had a heavy dose of flirtation in it too.

She giggled, and he reveled in the sound of it. “No, you’ve always been…mature enough.”

Shane wanted to ask, “Then what?” but he suspected he already knew. And it had everything to do with the tiny house and big truck she’d brought to the ranch with her.

“Still lookin’ for your roots?” he asked, his voice set on serious now, and much softer than before.

“Yeah.” She nodded, her attention on the batter singular. “Somethin’ like that.” The waffle iron beeped that it had reached the right temperature just as Shane put the first chicken strip in the hot oil.

“Should I go ahead and start these?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll put the oven on warm, and we can stick ‘em in there.” He twisted the oven dial and enjoyed the happy, sizzling sound of frying chicken. He warmed the maple syrup in the microwave and set the plate of butter on the island where she worked the waffle iron.

Ten minutes later, Shane had a waffle with more butter than any human should consume in one sitting melting in the squares, and four chicken strips atop that. He poured hot maple syrup over everything and sighed. “Ah, chicken and waffles. One of my favorite meals.”

“Because your mom used to make it.” Robin looked up at him, and he realized she’d put makeup on. He blinked at her, not quite sure what he was more surprised about—the makeup or her recall of the obscure fact he’d shared with her three years ago.

“Yeah, for my birthday every year.” Shane took his plate to the small dining room table the brothers used every night. Shane had said that if they were going to live together and be a family, they might as well eat together too. Did it matter if he served grilled cheese sandwiches three times a week and Austin sliced apples? No, it didn’t.

He eyed the two extra plates he’d gotten down and settled at the table with Robin right across from him. ”Do you mind if I say grace?” He watched her for a reaction, watched the surprise roll across her face in a single wave.

“No, go ahead.” She bowed her head, and Shane said a simple prayer over his brothers, and Robin, and the food.

He said, “Amen,” and made to put his hat back on as quickly as possible. Robin’s touch stopped him, and he skated his eyes from the point of contact, up her arm, and to her face. His heart pumped and jumped, and his fantasies started without any prompting from him.

“That was nice,” she said sincerely. “Thank you.” She withdrew her fingers from his and he stuffed his hat on his head, this “simple meal of chicken and waffles” feeling very much like a date.

Except he wouldn’t pray on a date. And he wouldn’t have made his own food. And his two loud, rowdy brothers wouldn’t have exploded through the front door moments later.

They froze as fast as they had entered. “Oh, uh—” Dylan started, but Austin practically flew into the kitchen.

“Is this chicken and waffles?” He looked at Shane hopefully. “For us?”

“Sure,” Shane said. “There’s plenty for you. Miss Robin’s waffles are in the oven.”

Dylan closed the front door to seal out the heat, and he approached the scene in the dining room with more tact. “Heard you two got stuck in the hailstorm.”

“Sure did,” Shane said at the same time Robin said, “Only for a few minutes.”

Shane met her eyes, and smiled at the same time she did. “We made it to the cabin in sector seven,” he said. “Spent most of the day there.”

“We can take this over to Kurt’s,” Dylan said, taking a step away from the table.

“You don’t need to do that,” Shane said quietly. The words still sounded like a shout, even over Austin’s enthusiastic buttering of his waffle. “It’s fine. There’s room here.” He shifted and cut a glance at Robin. “Right, Robin?”

She didn’t look away from him as she said, “Right. Of course,” with pure electricity arcing from her to him. Shane felt buzzed by it, and the evening had just begun.

“And after we eat, maybe you guys can come look at my house.”

Shane narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong with your house?”

“I think the hail must’ve been bigger here or something. My roof’s leaking.”

And she was just now mentioning it? Shane gave her some credit for that, and nodded. “Sure, I can come look at it.”

“Oh, we can’t,” Dylan said in a super-fake tone. “Austin and I promised May we’d come help her with the nursery.”

“We did?” Austin asked as he practically dropped his plate on the table between Shane and Robin. “I don’t wanna—”

“Yeah, remember?” Dylan practically yelled. “She needed help hanging letters. I said we’d come tonight. It shouldn’t take long. But you know May.” He added a loud laugh that made Shane roll his eyes.

But Robin joined in laughing with him, only increasing when Austin looked at her and then Dylan, and finally Shane. “What am I missing?” he asked, and Shane just shrugged and tried not to inhale his dinner.