He’d like to think he saw a flicker of relief at that sentence, but he was probably just reading something into nothing. He was sure of it, because Holly was nothing if not utterly forthcoming. If she wanted, for some odd reason, to stay in Little Paradise, she would just say so.

Hell, she’d just buy the place and make the announcement.

But she wasn’t going to do any such thing and he needed to remember that.

“I was really hoping for breakfast,” he said, rubbing his empty belly.

Her gaze followed the movement. Then as if she were afraid he’d notice her staring at him, she turned away and said quickly, “I have oatmeal in the back. It’s not instant this time, honest, I got the recipe from Dora and it’s…”

“It’s…?”

“Good.” She smiled as she once again looked at him. “It’s really good.”

He was still digesting the fact that she and Dora-complete opposites-were working together, that Holly had cooked oatmeal, that she was offering him some, when she apparently took his silence for rejection.

As if she didn’t know what else to do, she hunkered down and stroked a hand along the dog’s back, then Harry’s before rising and turning from him.

He just caught her arm before she vanished on him. “Wait-”

“I have work.”

“Just wait a sec.” Turning her to face him, he looked into her still-tense face. Lord, what was it about her? Unable to help himself, he stroked a thumb over her jaw.

Her expression wasn’t unreadable as it usually was, and he saw her confusion. Then, as if with great effort, she blinked and stepped back, sending a haughty I-don’t-care-what-you-think glance over her shoulder at the other people in the room.

He’d never been one to care about what others thought, either, and he didn’t particularly care now. If he wanted to touch her, he would because in truth, they’d been heading toward this since the day she’d stepped out of her Jeep and into Little Paradise. But in deference to her obvious discomfort, he sent everyone a pointed look and suddenly they all became busy again.

“I’d love some oatmeal,” he said. “In the kitchen?”

She nodded, and he followed her, enjoying the way her jeans showed off her body in ways her dressier clothes never had.

Mike high-fived him as he passed, looking happier than Riley had ever seen him. They’d gone to school together, until Riley had left for college. Mike had gone into his father’s remodeling business, even though everyone knew he wanted to be an artist with all his heart. But painting in a small ranching town with little to no tourism didn’t pay the bills, and he had four kids and a wife to support.

“I’m going to put up some of my artwork on the walls,” Mike said proudly. “Maybe even sell some.”

“Can’t wait to see it all. Maybe I’ll pick one up for the spot over my mantel.”

Mike beamed. “That would be nice.” He stopped to swipe at his brow. “I won’t fool myself, I won’t be retiring from the building business any time soon, but this is fun, getting to see my work up on walls that aren’t even mine. Assuming Holly doesn’t accidentally burn the place down next.”

Riley had to laugh at that, but he wondered if Holly had any idea how much she’d just given the man. If she cared.

Dora sent Riley a wink and blew a kiss as he passed, and he blew one right back at her. “New job?” he asked. He’d known her forever, too, and knew that beneath all that huge red hair, overdone makeup and major attitude, beat a rare, warm, giving heart.

“Yeah.” She laughed, and it wasn’t with her usual cynicism, but with genuine delight. “And it’s my own job this time, not one given to me because of family obligations or pity or because they’re afraid I’m going to embarrass them or anything like that.” She grinned. “My folks have never really forgiven me for having sex in the frozen section that first year out of high school.”

“Maybe because you seduced their best stock boy, and he let all the frozen lobsters thaw.”

“Yeah. That was fun. But I paid for that one big-time. Now I’m done ringing up grumpy ranchers. I’m going to cook. For real. Imagine that, being paid to do something you love the most.” She let out a wicked smile. “Well, the second-most anyway.”

He laughed, enjoying her happiness. Riley knew how much this new job had restored some badly needed self-esteem and confidence to a woman sorely lacking in both, and again he looked at Holly.

She avoided his gaze.

They continued toward the kitchen. As Riley passed Jud, the older man suddenly got busier.

“Slow crime day?” Riley asked lightly.

Jud actually blushed. “She’s trying really hard,” he said grudgingly, hitching up his slipping pants and looking at Holly. “Just wanted to be neighborly.”

“Uh-huh. Neighborly. Was there food involved, Jud?”

Holly smiled, giving him away.

“They offered me lunch, yes, and since-” Jud broke off until Holly disappeared into the kitchen, and he lowered his voice “-and since it’s Dora cooking it, not the Low-Fat Queen, and since there’s currently no cows on the run, what the hell, right?”

“Sounding a little defensive there.”

“Dammit, I’m hungry. Okay?”

“Okay.” Riley laughed. “Me, too.”

“Nah, you’re sweet on her.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Jud-”

“Are, too.”

Riley walked away from that. In the kitchen, Holly was pulling out a bowl. Which involved her stretching up until her shirt raised high, giving him a nice view of her belly button.

His mouth went dry. “Need some help?”

“No, it’s one of the benefits of being tall. I can reach my own stuff.” She went up on tiptoe now, and leaned forward another little bit, which had her shirt falling away from her body. She sucked in a breath, as if that would give her another inch, and he saw more creamy skin, the outline of a few ribs, and he found himself wishing she’d stretch more, enough to give him a good shot of breast as well.

That’s when he realized it was official.

He was sweet on her, just as Jud had accused him.

7

FORCING HIS EYES CLOSED, Riley stood stock-still, until he heard Holly’s voice, which had a smile in it.

“The oatmeal isn’t that scary,” she said. “I promise. Dora helped.”

“I’m not afraid of your oatmeal.” He took the bowl, which was warm in his fingers.

“What are you afraid of?”

That she was standing too close to him, because he could see things in her eyes that made him dizzy. Or maybe those things were in his own eyes and he was just seeing them reflected back at him. “I’m afraid you’ve been taken over by aliens. You’re different.”

“Different?” She turned away and tripped over the dog, then bent to pat him on the head.

This was the same woman who only days ago had looked at that mutt as if he were a mite-ridden monster, and yet she was now smiling fondly, as if she’d grown to care for him.

“You ever going to name him?” he asked.

“No,” she said, hastily moving away from the dog as if she’d just realized what she’d done. “He’s not mine so there’s no reason to.”

“How do you know he’s a he?”

Crossing her arms, she went for a haughty look and failed. “He just is.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s cocky and walks with an attitude.”

“And?”

“And-” she rolled her eyes “-and because I looked, okay?”

He grinned. “Okay. City girl.”

“Don’t change the subject. How do I look different?”

“Different…softer.” Yeah, definitely softer. It was a good look for her. “I may be going out on a limb here, princess, but you’re looking…happy.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Why would it be silly to look happy?” He scooped a bite of oatmeal into his mouth and was surprised to find it nearly melted there, it was that good. “You’re right, this is fantastic.”

“Thank you.”

“See? Right there, you said ‘thank you’ and you said it with such a sweet, kind voice. Definitely different. Now, tell me why that’s silly.”

“Because I don’t want to be soft or sweet.” She let out an unladylike snort and crossed her arms, a definite defensive stance. “I’ve never been sweet and kind in my life.”

“You’re not looking into the right mirror.” He scooped up another three bites of oatmeal to hide the fact he wanted to take at least three bites out of her. “I can give you examples of your kindness, if you need them.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re letting Mike hang his artwork. In case you don’t know, you now walk on water.”

“His artwork is good. I’m doing myself a favor by putting up something people will want to look at.”

“How about Jud? He wasn’t exactly welcoming to you. Don’t tell me you turned the other cheek that easily.”

“I needed his help, he wanted good food. We compromised.”

“Uh-huh. And what about Dora?”

She shifted, giving herself away. “What about her?”

“I suppose you hired her away from a job that was slowly killing her because you actually like loud, slightly tacky, buxom redheads.”

“She’s not loud.” She hesitated. “And it’s not up to me to judge her personal taste in clothing.”

He laughed. “That was very…tactful.”

“I like Dora.”

“I like her, too, I just didn’t expect you to.”

“Why not? She’s my-” Friend, Holly realized with no little surprise. On the outside, they appeared to be very different, but that was an illusion, for she thought that just maybe she and Dora had far more in common than they’d realized.

For one, neither of them were exactly cherished by their families.

For another, they both seemed to have a problem letting people close enough to form a relationship.

“She’s your what, Holly? Your friend?” Riley’s eyes shone with something far too close to pride and affection for her tastes. “You’ve made a friend here in this annoying town, among people you don’t like?”