Page 30 of Red Hot Rancher

Sliding out, she winced as the freezing air hit her face. Her pants were gathered in a messy bunch over her cowboy boots, and she wore the same long-sleeved V-neck purple shirt she’d had on all day. Not fancy, but not pajamas. And not a towel.

A punch of heat warded off the chill. She steeled herself, gathered the food, and marched to the door. She kicked at it in place of knocking.

Two seconds later, the door opened a crack, a chain breaking Caleb’s face in two.

Surprise, then concern, flashed over his features. “Brigit. Everything okay?”

She pushed for a smile and held the plates up. “I assumed you’d be hanging out with Farah today, but I heard they went to Brock’s. So…”

The door closed, but the rattle of the chain was crystal clear. Then he whipped open the door and ushered her in.

“Holy crap, it’s hot in here.” If she’d been wearing her coat, she would’ve started sweating.

Caleb locked the door and circled around her. Her mouth went dry.

He was shirtless.

His hair wasn’t slicked from his shower this time and his jeans were on, but the effect packed no less punch than last time.

“I legit think I have to open a window. I’ve turned the heat off, but there’s no circulation in here and I think the owner cranked the thermostat in the neighboring rooms.” He accepted the plates and set them down. She stepped out of her boots, not bothering to ask if she was welcome to stay.

“I think you could leave the door wide open and it might drop below eighty in an hour.” She went to the window on the opposite side of the door and cracked it. The blast of wind should help take the flush out of her face.

Caleb waved at all the food. “Is this… Thanks.”

“No problem.” And it wasn’t. He was staring at the food like it was a feast for kings. This was worth whatever fallout happened at home. “It hasn’t been in the fridge long, but it might need a quick reheat.”

A scan of the room said no, that wouldn’t be an option.

Caleb chuckled. “Believe me, it’s better than the apple I had.”

“Is that all you’ve eaten?”

“And a gas station burger.” His gaze strayed to the garbage can next to her.

She looked down. “Ah. At least I remembered a fork.”

“Just one? Aren’t you going to join me?” He tossed his jacket off a chair and carried the seat to the bed. To her dismay, he found his shirt and rolled it on. “Take your pick while I bring the table over.”

She settled on the uncomfortable chair and he took the bed. He shoveled into the potatoes with one hand while lifting the foil cover off the pie. “Half a pie. Damn.”

“I know it’s too much.” She couldn’t explain the situation without hurting his feelings. He didn’t need to deal with her mom’s opinions on top of…well, hers. “I wasn’t sure what you like, or how you like it.”

“Now I didn’t say it was too much.” He scooted the pie tray over. “Half is yours.”

Her mouth watered. Pumpkin pie was her favorite. “I should’ve packed another fork.”

He shrugged and finished chewing his mouthful, another forkful poised and ready. “Use your hands.”

Her smile had a mind of its own. “I can’t eat pumpkin pie with my hands.”

He winked. “Betcha you could.” He held the handle of his fork. “But if you’re too scared, you use the fork and I’ll use my hands on these potatoes.”

She scowled at him and grabbed the pie pan, strategizing how to manage without wearing half the pumpkin custard.

His grin was unrepentant and he went back to his food. Once she loosened her piece, the rest was pretty easy to eat. She polished off a slice.

Caleb tapped the tin. “I’m not done yet. Might as well have another.”

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