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length. “Is it ready?”
    Her throat cleared. “I didn’t look, but I can smell it.”
    A smile tugged at him and glanced to her. “Is that a bad thing?”
    “No.” Her feet continued to swing. “Rule of thumb. When you can start smelling it, it’s nearly finished.”
    He cracked open the oven door and a wave of heat seemingly melted his face. As if he wasn’t hot enough. The pudding wasn’t bubbling yet and he flipped it closed for an even greater source of heat, just a different kind. Her. “It has a little left. Do you need anything?” Christ, that sounded pathetic. And lame.
    “I already grabbed a coke from the refrigerator.”
    He just nodded and stood there. This was insane. He had never been struck this stupid by a woman before. He shook it off. The problem was she shouldn’t be here. From the first day he saw her, to yesterday when he went to bed. Then he’d gone and invited her in. And she looked so good sitting there on his dark couch in his darkened and empty living room. Staring at him. Eating him up with her eyes. He pulled a shirt from the dryer and dropped it over his head. Not that it stopped her from staring, but hell. Just hell, that’s all.
    He glanced around the space and winced. He looked poor, like he could barely afford the clothes on his back. When he’d come here, he knew it would be temporary, so he hadn’t brought much. Just basics. Small couch. TV. Bed. That was pretty much it. Any other things he’d picked up because his youngest brother moved in with his girlfriend and dumped any extras off on Lane. Like the side tables, lamps and a few odd knickknacks here and there.
    His gaze landed back on hers, still sitting there. Feet still bobbing. “You can relax. The food won’t kill you.”
    That got a chuckle out of her. “I never thought it would.”
    He turned to the cabinets for plates—plastic. It was easier. Never bothered him until now, with Gretchen next to him, separating the plates and placing them side-by-side.
    He reached in a drawer for forks. “Sorry. I don’t have real stuff.”
    “It’s fine. You said you weren’t staying long.”
    “Right.” Not long. Long enough to could push her up against the refrigerator and have her ankles hooked at his lower back.
    “How long do you plan to be here?”
    He shrugged. “Not sure. Grant is stalling. I think to make sure we stay longer. No oil, and we’ll have to leave eventually for jobs. At this rate, at least another couple of months.”
    “He cares a lot about y’all.”
    Lane pressed his lips together before saying something he’d regret and just nodded. Grant did care about them. Had cared since he was a kid and learned what caring was. And Lane had let him down. His brother just didn’t know it.
    She turned and leaned against the counter, arms under her chest and head turned up to him. “How is he stalling?”
    “Little things here and there. Wants all the abandoned wells found and cleared out before we get the equipment needed to start checking any we’ve already found. He doesn’t want us to just clear-cut behind the manor but take our time. Cut down the trees to make firewood instead of just taking a bulldozer to it all. It’s taking a while to get through the thick wood to find what we’re looking for. Then thin it out so we can work without just completely leveling it for the timber. This winter was pretty hard, so it slowed us down too. Then Trent got the flu.”
    She shuddered. “Yeah. I remember. Grant asked Tonya one day if she could take some soup by. We went together since I had the key. He looked pretty rough.”
    He stared at this remarkable woman. He had no idea. “I didn’t know that.”
    She shrugged. “It was just the once.”
    “Grant’s good about making sure everyone has what they need. It’s what he’s always done.”
    She smiled up at him. “I’m sure he’s enjoyed having you around, but will understand when you’re done and ready to leave.”
    How did she do that?