Boone needed Maddie, too. To keep his ranch intact.
But he didn’t approve of her, didn’t like who she was, didn’t believe she belonged here. No amount of pleasure, no amount of wondering how those strong hands would feel all over her body, was worth having to recover her sense of herself again.
She didn’t have an off/on switch. She was who she was, and she had no one else now. If Maddie let anyone destroy her faith in herself again, she didn’t know if she could rebuild it this time.
Boone tempted her, all right. A lot. Something about him called to her and it wasn’t just a set of impressive muscles or a handsome face.
But he didn’t want her here, not permanently. It was right that he should have this house that meant so much to him, but Maddie already thought that she might want to come back, just to visit. There was something about this place that pulled at her, despite knowing that she would never truly fit.
If she and Boone could be friends, she could come back to visit, maybe. He would marry and have children, sure—make this house the home that he remembered from happier times. She could be friends with his wife, bring presents to his kids.
If they were friends. Only friends and nothing more.
The crackle of butter close to burning yanked Maddie back. Just cook, Maddie. Get through dinner. Then go take your walk and get away from him. With any luck he’ll be in bed before you return.
Boone drained his glass of ice water and got up to refill it.
“Thanks. I can’t leave this right now.” Maddie spoke to him but her gaze was firmly fixed upon the stove.
“This isn’t your restaurant. You don’t have to give me good service. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”
She did glance up at him then. “I guess old habits are hard to break. I waited tables for a long time while I was learning the business.” The mischief rose again. “I made good money on tips.”
He grinned back. “Whoever had you waiting tables instead of making the food was a fool. That smells great.”
Delight sparkled in her eyes. “You haven’t tried it yet.”
“Need a taster?”
For just a second, he could swear he saw nerves fracture the delight. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and reached in a nearby drawer for a spoon. Scooping up sauce, she blew across the spoon before lifting it to his mouth. Boone couldn’t take his gaze from her lips.
When he didn’t respond quickly enough to the raised spoon, Maddie looked up at him. Their gazes slid together, and Boone felt his breath lock up in his chest.
She was so close. All he had to do was reach out and touch the flesh his hands still remembered.
Maddie’s breasts rose with her quick inhalation. Her nostrils flared. Those eerie silvery eyes went dark, and Boone knew all he had to do was take the next step. She was as aware of him as he was of her.
And she wasn’t stepping away.
He could kiss those lips. He could taste her on his tongue. He could lick a slow, soft trail down the slender line of her throat, sip the salty dew from her body.
The oven buzzer went off, and jolted them both.
Boone gripped his glass so hard it was a miracle it didn’t break. “I’ll wait for the meal.” He turned away, grasping for control, hearing his voice crack like it hadn’t since adolescence. As fast as he could, he put kitchen floor between them.
This was never going to work. They were oil and water. Maddie was meant for bright lights and center stage. He only wanted the horses, the big sky, the quiet.
She was going to leave, and he would stay.
The barn was full, but maybe he should make room in the tack room. Or the back of his truck. Or anywhere but locked in this house with Maddie.
Twenty-six days and counting.
When she set the food on the table, Boone couldn’t stifle his amazement at the simple fare. Linguine with marinara sauce. Salad. Garlic bread, hot from the oven.
His amazement must have shown.
“I told you—no radish roses.”
Boone glanced up. Nerves and something darker danced in her eyes, but she held her head high and proud as if daring him to say anything about what had happened.
“I figured it would still be something fancy.”
“Taste it. I told you, good food is good food.”
So he did. And it was the best thing he’d put in his mouth in ages. Vondell was a good cook, but this sauce held a world of flavors, robust and teasing on his tongue. He took a bite of the bread and almost sighed out loud.
He realized Maddie wasn’t eating, just watching him. “You’re not going to eat?”
“I will, but right now, I’m just enjoying seeing someone eat my food again. It’s what I do. I feed people.”
“I can’t imagine why anyone ever let you leave New York. This is the best marinara I’ve ever tasted.”