what?” he prompted, stepping closer, his gaze searching hers.
“If you wait a lifetime, you won’t get an answer from me on that one. It’s my fault we’re on a subject we don’t need to discuss. Let’s go back to talking about breakfast.”
“That makes what you said all the more interesting,” he remarked, placing his hands on both sides of her and hemming her in against the counter, leaning even closer. His eyes were a dark brown, his brown hair straight and neatly combed. His jaw was clean-shaven and she could detect the fresh smell of his aftershave. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t get her breath.
“Josh, maybe I should take care of breakfast alone,” she said.
“I disturb you?”
“You’ve disturbed me since you rang the bell last night at ten,” she said bluntly. “I need to get back to breakfast before I burn something.”
A faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “My morning has started out better than I ever dreamed possible,” he said quietly and dropped his hands, moving back.
She passed him, going to the dining room even though she had the table set and ready. She opened a drawer in a buffet and got two serving spoons, moving without thinking about what she was doing, trying to give her pounding heart a chance to slow to normal.
For a moment she had thought he was going to kiss her. With the kind of reaction she had to him, she shouldn’t be alone with him. She didn’t need distraction from her routine life, or a charmer like Josh, a man who’d merely stopped in Beckett because of a storm. He was another man like her father. The charmer, the traveler, the businessman who could not settle or be faithful. Josh had the same knack for making friends with people he met, and any man with a private jet did a lot of traveling, constantly reminding her of her father. She shivered and turned back to work.
When the weather permitted, Josh would leave, and he would not return. Her heart did not need to get caught up with someone who would go on his way without a thought for Beckett or anyone who lived here.
Returning to the kitchen, she glanced at Josh as he stood at the sink filled with soapy water with his sleeves pushed up, his watch on the windowsill while he scrubbed pans. Amazed that he would work on a tedious, routine job he didn’t have to do, she went on to get breakfast, trying to forget Josh or her response when he had stood close or when he flirted.
They worked quietly together, but even as she concentrated on breakfast as the morning progressed, she was aware of Josh working nearby.
Though it was still early for breakfast, she heard shuffling in the hall. As she expected, her tenant Mr. Hickman entered the kitchen, smiling at her. “Good morning, Abby. You look as beautiful as ever.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hickman. Thank you. What can I do for you?”
He pulled his brown cardigan closer over his white shirt. “The snow has made me hungry. Can I get a poached egg and a piece of French toast? I don’t suppose that’s on the menu for this morning.”
“I’ll fix it for you and you can sit in here to eat. You remember our agreement?”
“Certainly. If I ask for something special, I’ll eat it in the kitchen so the others do not expect special favors,” he said, chuckling. “I brought yesterday’s paper because I don’t think we’ll get one today.”
“I don’t think we will, either. Josh, our latest guest, is helping. He can eat in here with you and keep you company,” she said, and Josh turned around, drying his hands. “Josh, meet Mr. Hickman. Mr. Hickman, this is Josh Calhoun from Verity and Dallas. He came late last night.”
“How do you do, Mr. Hickman,” Josh said, shaking the elderly man’s hand gently.
“Come join me for breakfast,” Mr. Hickman said.
“Mr. Hickman’s having a poached egg and French toast,” Abby told Josh. “Would you like that, too?”
“I’ve seen the breakfast casserole and the biscuits—I’d like them if you have enough.”
“We have plenty,” she said. “I’ll get coffee and juice for both of you.”
“Go on with what you have to do,” Josh said, “and I’ll take care of us. If you need help with serving out there, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” she replied, surprised again that he was willing to work.
It was after eight and she expected people to begin showing for breakfast, so she hurried to get things ready, poaching the egg and making French toast for Mr. Hickman. She wondered whether Josh minded sitting with him, but in minutes she heard them in conversation and realized Josh seemed happy talking to the elderly man and vice versa. She knew Mr. Hickman was happy, because he spent many long hours without anyone to talk to.
When the first guests came downstairs to be seated for breakfast, she picked up a large serving dish holding the casserole. Josh stepped in front of her, his fingers brushing hers as he took the dish from her. “Let me. You just fill the plates or whatever you do. I’ll take things to the dining room. I waited tables in college. I told Mr. Hickman I’d be right back, and he’s reading his paper.”
“You’re nice to sit with him,” she said.
“He reminds me of a grandfather I was close to. I like Mr. Hickman.”
She felt a pang. She realized she had been hoping Josh would disappoint her and not like eating in the kitchen or with the elderly man, which would cause her to lose some of her attraction for him. Instead, she was more drawn to him in spite of wishing she weren’t.
She handed the plates to him and went back to fill more. She wondered about his life, and if he had needed a job waiting tables to make the money to go to school. It had been late last night so she hadn’t looked him up on the web, but today she would do a little research on him.
Soon she was too busy dealing with her guests to think about Josh. Finally the dining room was empty and Mr. Hickman had gone to the living room, taking his paper with him.
“Now I’m going to have breakfast,” she told Josh, helping herself. “Can I get you something else?”
He stood to pour another cup of coffee. “I’ll get what I want. When you sit, I’ll join you.” He headed to the dining room and returned carrying dishes, which he placed in the sink. When she finally sat down at the table to eat, he picked up his cup of steaming coffee and sat facing her.
“So what did you and Mr. Hickman talk about?”
“He’s interesting. He’s a fisherman, so we talked about fishing holes and fly-fishing and the biggest trout caught around here, which of course was in a pond that had been stocked.”
“So you have time to fish on top of being a businessman and a rancher.”
“No, not as often as I’d like. I miss it.”
“Maybe this snow is good for you—chance to stop the constant work and enjoy life and that sort of thing,” she said.
“Oh, I know how to enjoy life,” he said quietly, giving her
