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defined?”
    Crap, he hadn’t thought about that. “When you want to do that? You can pick.”
    “I was joking.”
    Damn it. “This is serious. You use the downstairs bathroom, and I’ll use the upper.”
    “Fine.”
    Was that a smile she was hiding? This was no laughing matter to him.
    “This is the only way I can manage this situation.” He didn’t like how hoarse he sounded.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to joke. It’s just so rigid. I can almost picture you drawing lines down the rooms in white chalk, to keep me in the right place.”
    He’d thought of it. He was glad he hadn’t suggested it.
    “So. Well, then, so that’s worked out. I thought we might divide the refrigerator, but that might be difficult.”
    “Maybe a kitty?”
    “I have a cat. You leave Duncan alone. He’s not part of the house-sharing. I told you, this is serious.”
    “Not that kind of kitty. We used to do it in college. Put an envelope on the fridge, and we each kick in the same amount each week, and make a list, and one of us shops, and we both cook our own things. But that way we don’t end up with two separate jars of mayo and two dozen eggs going bad.”
    “I have chickens.”
    She smiled, a big grin. “I like fresh eggs. But I only meant that we can share.” She paused and then said, “How long will it take me to fix up the cottage, do you think?”
    “Honestly? I’d be surprised if you got it done in a month. That’s with professional help.”
    “Can I stay here that long?” Her voice was clear, but he detected a fragility underneath.
    “I suppose so.” It was the best he could manage.
    “We can handle this.” She smiled again, but he couldn’t smile back at her.
    “Well, if we do it that way, with the money on the fridge, then you can help yourself to whatever’s in there. I think there’s bread in the freezer, if you want toast.”
    “I already made oatmeal, earlier, actually, but thank you.”
    “Without asking?”
    “We just discussed that. We just worked it out.”
    “But you took the oatmeal before we talked about it.”
    “I was going to replace it. I still will. Are we really arguing about oatmeal here?”
    “What?”
    “You’re still angry.”
    “Damn it!” he said, and she jumped again. She was like a spooked horse. What was her problem?
    Then he sighed. He had to do better than this. “I’m sorry. This is a bad situation. Well, it’s bad for me.”
    “It may be better for me, but only marginally. Do you have any other rules for me? Any Bluebeard rooms I need to stay out of?”
    She was closer to him now, and the scent of her skin was intoxicating. It made him even more nervous than he already was. He noticed again that she smelled sweet and light and somehow like flowers, but not overpoweringly so.
    He shook his head and kept his mouth shut.
    She washed her bowl and spoon and cup, and moved to place them in the drainer.
    Cade was in her way, leaning with his back against the counter. He knew it and he didn’t move.
    “Do you mind? Or should I dry them by hand and put them away so you can pretend I’m really not here?”
    He didn’t move, couldn’t. He just looked at her.
    She reached behind him to put the glass in the dish drainer.
    Without thinking, he put his hand on her wrist, the one not holding the glass. Her skin was as soft as it looked and surprisingly warm.
    Abigail gasped and jumped away.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. What had he been thinking?
    “No, I’m sorry, I was crowding you. Damn it, just the thing I’m trying not to do.” She attempted a smile, but Cade could tell it wasn’t easy for her. “I like your schedule idea. I’ll stay out of your way.”
    “Maybe it is a little extreme.”
    What was he saying? He didn’t want her here.
    “No, I think it’s good. I’ll go shower, and then, let’s see,” her hand fluttered up to her hair and back down again. “It’s only nine thirty, so I think that’s my time in the house, but I’m happy to be up in