tore her eyes from the masculine contours of his chest. “It’s going to take half a day or more to do all the business with the breeder, talk to their vet, load up Blue Mist and get back here.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then you better fortify me tonight with your culinary skills.”
Once again, Rebecca found herself stunned by Trevor McCabe’s temerity. “You expect dinner here tonight?” She’d been hoping to put it off at least a couple of days.
He declared victory with a sexy wink. “We’ll just call it payment in advance.”
Chapter Three
“Mom and Dad wanted to be here, too, but they both have to work evening hours at the hospital,” Amy Carrigan told Rebecca an hour later.
Her three siblings had stopped in to congratulate her. They’d also brought housewarming gifts. Sunscreen and lip balm from Susie, who worked outdoors as a landscape architect and garden center owner and knew the importance of protecting skin. An indoor herb garden from Amy, who owned her own ranch and plant-growing business. And a deluxe first aid box from Jeremy, a family physician at Laramie Community Hospital.
“They said they’d be by later in the week,” Jeremy continued.
“Right,” Rebecca said.
Susie understood the hurt Rebecca felt—maybe because she had encountered resistance, too, when she had decided to eschew lucrative job offers and go into business for herself, right out of college. She and Amy had both been remarkably successful eventually, but there was no denying their first few years out of the gate had been so lean financially that their parents had worried constantly. Susie had taken the brunt of it, since she had been the first to take the leap.
“Just give them time. They’ll come around, once they see you making a go of it,” Susie encouraged, for once being more supportive than overly protective.
“And that Open House you’re planning in two weeks to get your business off the ground will help,” Amy added.
Rebecca hoped that was the case. Now that she was actually residing at the ranch, for all of…six hours…she was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed by everything that had to be done, despite the steps Miss Mim had taken to make the transition easier for her by leaving the pantry, fridge and freezer stocked with fresh food and homemade entrees.
Lucky for her, Miss Mim had loved to cook for others.
“Just be glad you’re not in my position,” Jeremy lamented, “since everyone at Laramie Community Hospital still thinks of me as Luke and Meg’s kid.”
It had to be hard, Rebecca figured, taking a position at the same hospital where their physician father was Chief of Family Medicine and their mother an RN who supervised the entire nursing staff.
“You want to trade positions with me?” Rebecca teased. She stood on tiptoe to retrieve a glass casserole dish, then set it on the counter. “I’ll be glad to let you cook dinner for Trevor McCabe.”
“I still don’t get why you agreed to that,” Amy said.
“Yeah. Why didn’t you just tell him to go jump in Lake Laramie?” Susie sipped the iced tea Rebecca had poured for everyone.
Rebecca shrugged and opened a foil-wrapped single serving packet marked Tex-Mex Chicken Casserole. She dumped the rock-hard concoction into the dish. “I have to borrow a livestock hauler from somebody. He has one that isn’t being used tomorrow. He lives right next door to me. He had no problem being neighborly.”
Jeremy watched as Rebecca unwrapped another packet. “Maybe I should try his approach. It’s certainly a novel way to get a date.”
Rebecca regarded her siblings, her brows arched. “This isn’t a date.”
“Then what is it?” Susie persisted.
Rebecca popped the casserole into the microwave and punched Defrost. “It’s an opportunity for me to start setting some boundaries with that handsome cowboy.”
Amy tilted her head. “Interesting way to refer to your neighbor to the north.”
“Come on,” Rebecca huffed. “You all know what I mean.”
“The question is, do you?” Jeremy asked.
Rebecca studied the dish in the microwave. “Trevor needs to understand I am no Miss Mim.”
Her only brother chuckled. “I think he’s got that part down already, giving how fast he’s moving in on you.”
The microwave dinged. Rebecca grabbed a pot holder and removed the dish. “For the last time, Jeremy, Trevor McCabe is not staking out any kind of claim on me tonight.”
“If you say so.” Jeremy looked over her shoulder. “And if I were you, I’d use about four of those if you don’t want Trevor McCabe to leave hungry. Those are lady-sized portions.” Jeremy patted his stomach. “I figure I could put away at least three of them, so he probably could, too.”
“Good point.” Rebecca went back to the freezer and emerged with two more single-serve packets. “I wouldn’t want him to leave hungry.”
Susie studied her, ready to jump in, if necessary, and save Rebecca from herself. “That gleam in your eye means trouble,” Susie said.
“Does it?” Rebecca asked innocently, wondering when Susie would finally realize that Rebecca could survive just fine without any sisterly—or parental—help?
Ever the peacemaker, Amy said kindly, “You could always ask us to stay for dinner, too.”
Rebecca slid the extra portions on a plate, put them into the microwave and pushed Defrost once again. “If I did that,” Rebecca replied, peeved Amy was now starting to meddle a bit, too, “Trevor McCabe would think I was hiding behind you.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Susie demanded.
Rebecca reached for the herb garden and broke off sprigs of mint, cilantro, oregano, basil, rosemary, parsley and thyme. She got out a cutting board and began dicing up everything but the cilantro. “I am not afraid to spend time alone with him.”
Amy frowned. “You realize you just mixed all those herbs together.”
“Indeed, I do.” Rebecca took the plate out of the oven, added the contents to the casserole dish, then picked up her spoon, and prepared to get to work. “And soon Trevor McCabe will, too.”
THE GUILT STARTED as soon Rebecca opened the door. She hadn’t bothered to do more than wash her face and brush her teeth to get ready for her company. Her hair remained in the two loose braids she’d put it in that morning. She was still dressed in a T-shirt, jeans and boots.
Trevor had obviously showered before driving over. He was wearing a clean pair of jeans, a freshly ironed white Western shirt and dress boots. He smelled of soap and cologne. His reddish-brown hair was still damp, parted neatly on one side.
To make her feel even worse, he hadn’t shown up empty-handed. He had a large wicker gift basket jammed with all manner of sauces and condiments, all bearing
