“Take those boots off.”
He stopped.
“Hello to you too.”
“Mud.”
“I missed you.”
“Boots.”
Grant sighed theatrically.
Removed them.
Eliza tried not to smile.
He crossed the kitchen in socks.
“You're making biscuits.”
“Observant.”
“I've been thinking about your biscuits since noon.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
Grant came behind her.
Stopped.
“Can I?”
Eliza knew what he meant now.
“While I'm holding flour?”
“Yes.”
“That seems foolish.”
“Probably.”
She nodded.
Grant placed his hands at her waist.
Eliza stiffened for only a second.
Then relaxed.
He rested his chin near her temple.
“You smell like bread.”
“You smell like cow.”
“I thought romance was improving.”
“It was.”
Grant kissed her neck.
Eliza's breath caught.
He stopped.
She reached back.
Caught his shirt.
“Don't.”
He froze.
Then Eliza smiled.
“I meant don't stop.”
Grant laughed against her shoulder.
“Woman, you need clearer language.”
She turned.
Flour covered her hands.
She placed both on his chest.
White prints appeared on his shirt.
“Oops.”
Grant looked down.
Then at her.
“Deliberate.”
“Impossible to prove.”
He kissed her.
Longer than before.
No flinch.
No fear.
Her fingers curled in his shirt.
His hand moved along her waist.
Eliza pressed closer.
Grant broke the kiss first.
Her eyes opened.
“Why did you stop?”
He looked amused.
“Samuel will be inside in approximately six minutes.”
Eliza listened.
No sound.
“How do you know?”
“He has been trying to teach that pony to jump the creek every afternoon.”
“Does the pony jump?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Samuel falls off around this time.”
As if summoned, the back door burst open.
“Uncle Grant!”
Eliza jumped away.
Samuel entered covered in mud.
Grant looked at her.
She looked at him.
Then both started laughing.
Samuel frowned.
“What?”
Grant pointed.
“You're predictable.”
Life at Red Willow settled around them.
Eliza discovered she was good at ranch accounts.
Very good.
Her father had used her for bookkeeping before deciding women should not be visible in business.
Grant found this out when she corrected three months of his cattle records in one evening.
He stared at the ledger.
“How did you find this?”
“You counted calves sold twice.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That can't be.”
“It is.”
Grant looked.
She was right.
He leaned back.
“You've been here a month and already discovered I'm an idiot.”
“I discovered that earlier.”
“When?”
“Your coffee.”
He laughed.
Then pushed the ledger toward her.
“Take over.”
Eliza looked offended.
“No.”
“Why?”
“You don't hand someone your books because she found one error.”