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told him she needed help?
    His cell phone chimed in his pocket. When he checked the display and saw a text from Cole, guilt made him suck air through his teeth in a sharp hiss. Hey, pal—Jenna’s in LA. Pretty sure she used to have a crush on you. If she looks you up, be nice but HANDS OFF!
    He turned off the mixer and braced his hand on the top of the machine, shoulders sagging. Too late. A crush? Shit. He took a resolute breath, wincing as his head throbbed. He’d drunk most of that bottle of wine by himself after dropping Jenna off last night and woken up on the couch with a pounding headache and a crick in his neck. Well-deserved pain, he thought as he typed in a complete lie. No problem.
    He glanced at the clock. Almost noon—she’d be here any minute.
    But first he had to get these cookies in the oven. He added the eggs, and the mixture curdled right before his eyes.
    “What the fuck?” he muttered, turning the speed to high.
    He heard a throat clear. “I think you skipped a step.”
    He spun around, then regretted it as pain made him grunt.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Jenna asked.
    “Nothing.” Nothing more ibuprofen can’t fix.
    He turned back to his cookie dough and added flour, relieved when the mixture smoothed out. He took the bowl off the mixer and grabbed a small ice cream scoop, taking extra care to portion the cookies evenly since she was watching his every move. When he finally glanced up, her lips were pressed together and her nose was wrinkled, as if she had a juicy secret and had been sworn to silence. “What? You want to say something?”
    She lifted her chin. “Nope.” Warm fire lit her eyes, and the spark it kindled inside him increased his irritation.
    “Good.” He scraped the last bit of dough from the bottom of the bowl and dropped it onto the cookie sheet. The stuff at the bottom wasn’t quite as smooth as the dough at the top, but it would all even out during baking.
    “How did my desserts sell last night?” she asked as he slid the tray into the oven.
    He gave her a narrow glare. “Would I be baking if we didn’t need desserts? We sold everything, a fact I would have been happy to share with you last night if you hadn’t—”
    She held up her hand. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is, even if I deserve it.” Her voice quavered a little but her gaze was steady. “I can explain.”
    He’d been trying not to stare at her, just stealing a couple of quick glances because he couldn’t seem to stop himself, but now he really looked at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and had dark circles under them. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, looking like a harsh word might send her sprinting out of the kitchen. For a minute, he was tempted to let her have it. If she left, he wouldn’t have to fight the bizarre need to comfort her.
    She took a deep breath. As she let it out, she closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, her gaze was raw and vulnerable. “I want to be the one to save Cooper’s. If I just told you what was going on, you’d pat me on the head and call Cole or my parents and figure it out with them. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m too young and inexperienced to help just because I tend to make spontaneous decisions.” Color bloomed in her cheeks.
    He stifled a chuckle. “I don’t know why anyone would think that.”
    “I can save Cooper’s. I know it.”
    Her truculent expression tugged at his heart. Yesterday she’d teased him about his cooking, familiar ground for them because she’d always insulted his efforts in her family’s kitchen. Last night, she’d thrown him a curve ball by stripping on the beach, then knocked him out with her passionate response on his couch, but he knew how to handle sexual situations. He didn’t know how to counter honesty and vulnerability, and he couldn’t stay mad at her, either. He knew what it felt like to have something to prove.
    She sighed. “I admit I mucked it