She’d met Russ and Melanie a few times and didn’t want to refuse his generous offer, but she wasn’t sure she’d feel comfortable sitting down at a table with people she barely knew.
“Thanks for the invite,” Corey said, coming to her rescue. “But Erin and I have other plans.”
“You’re sure?” Russ pressed.
“Positive. But please thank Melanie for us.”
His friend nodded. “I will. And I hope you’ll find your way out here again before you head back to Texas.”
“You can count on it,” Corey said, shaking his hand firmly.
The rancher tipped his hat to Erin, then led the horses into the barn.
* * *
“How are you holding up?” Corey asked when they were back in his truck and heading away from the ranch.
“Not too badly,” she said.
“You should take a hot bath before you go to bed tonight,” he suggested. “It will help ease any soreness in your muscles.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes as if she was imagining herself sinking into a tub filled with bubbles.
Or maybe he just assumed that was what was on her mind because it was on his.
“And if it doesn’t work, I’ll call Stefan in the morning and see if he can squeeze me in for a quickie during my lunch.”
“Stefan? A quickie?”
She laughed. “A quick massage,” she clarified.
“Oh.” But his frown deepened. “Don’t they have women who give massages?”
“Of course. But Stefan has the most amazing hands.”
“And you let him put them all over your body?”
“I pay him to put them all over my body.” She didn’t usually engage in this kind of flirtatious banter, but Corey’s reaction to her statement was so typically and possessively male, she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “And he’s worth every penny.”
“I could do the same thing—for free.”
She lifted a brow. “Show me your diploma, cowboy.”
“Well, no one’s ever called it a diploma, but—”
She laughed. “I was referring to a professional accreditation. Stefan trained in Sweden.”
“I graduated from Texas A&M,” he said, flicking on his indicator.
Instead of heading in the direction Erin lived, he turned the opposite way.
“Where are we going?” she asked, more curious than concerned.
“I told Russ we had plans for dinner,” he reminded her. “You don’t want to make a liar out of me, do you?”
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated—”
“Erin.”
She frowned at the interruption.
“You seem to be forgetting that I’m the one who tracked you down this morning and pretty much blackmailed you into spending the day with me.”
“You did, didn’t you?”
“Which should prove that if I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t be.”
“Okay,” she finally said, but the furrow in her brow deepened when he pulled into the parking lot of the Super Saver Mart, still referred to by a lot of the locals as the Thunder Canyon Mercantile. “This is where we’re going for dinner?”
He chuckled. “This is where we’re going to get the ingredients for dinner.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“No, I don’t expect you to cook dinner for me,” he said be fore she could ask. “I’m going to cook for you.”
“You are?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I guess because I am,” she admitted, as they made their way toward the entrance. “No man has ever cooked me dinner before.”
He eyed her warily. “Are you one of those—what do they call them—vegetarians or vegans or whatever?”
The tone of his voice left her in no doubt what this man from cattle country thought of that possibility and made her lips curve. “No, I’m not a vegetarian or a vegan.”
“Are you a picky eater?”
“There are some things I don’t like,” she admitted, “but I’m not picky.”
“What don’t you like?”
“Peas. Pickles. Pineapple.”
He lifted his brows. “You have something against the letter ‘p’?”
“I don’t like squash, either.”
“Like…pumpkin?”
She smiled again. “Any kind of squash.”
“Well then, I think we’re pretty safe,” he told her. “Because there are no peas, pickles, pineapple or squash in my red sauce.”
“I do like red sauce.”
“How do you feel about pasta?”
“I love pasta.”
He grinned. “Then let’s go shopping.”
Chapter Five
If she’d been surprised by his offer to cook for her, she was even more so by the ease with which he pushed the cart around the grocery store. He didn’t just toss the vegetables into a bag, he checked the color of the tomatoes, tested the firmness of the garlic, gauged the texture of the peppers.
She made a face when he was sniffing the mushrooms. “Those aren’t one of my favorite foods,” she admitted to him.
“These are shiitake, not porcini,” he teased.
“I’m just not a fan of any kind of fungus,” she said.
“You won’t even taste them.”
She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she was going to sit down for a home-cooked meal that she didn’t have to prepare, and she was curious about his skill in the kitchen. Okay, she was curious about his skill in other areas,
