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for me?”
    “Of course!”
    “Seriously?” She suddenly pictured him in a
Kiss the Cook
apron, stirring batter with a wooden spoon. Kinda sexy . . .
    “No.” He laughed, and Cat found herself liking the rich sound of his deep chuckle. “No, actually, my mother brought it over very early this morning. Warm from the oven, I might add.”
    “Earlier?”
    “We’re farmers. We get up when the rooster crows.”
    “Does that really happen?”
    “Getting up early or the rooster crowing?”
    “The rooster crowing.”
    “Yes.” Jeff inched the cake forward. “And there’s no snooze button. The best you can do is put the pillow over your head and groan.”
    “So you’re giving your mom’s cake to me?”
    “Yes, and it’s a cinnamon cake. My favorite.” Jeff held the plate up higher. “I’m not as big a jerk as you think.”
    “Let’s hope not,” Cat mumbled, and he laughed. She caught a whiff of cinnamon and then stood back for him to enter. “It smells divine. I accept.”
    “The apology?” He put the plate onto the breakfast bar and turned to face her.
    “The cake.” Cat lifted the tinfoil and took a pinch of cinnamon crumble and popped it into her mouth. “Oh,now that’s delicious. Okay, I guess I will have to accept your apology too,” she tried to joke, but he frowned. “What?”
    “How are your legs? Not bruised too badly, I hope?”
    Cat shrugged. “Like I said, I bruise easily and run into random things. Not a good combination, but let’s just say I’m used to it by now. Most of the pictures of me as a kid growing up show bruises on my shins. It didn’t help that I liked climbing trees,” Cat added, and then wondered why she’d felt the need to share this information with him. “But the attack-of-the-suitcase thing was over the top even for me.” She’d blame her runaway chatter on nervousness, but Jeff didn’t make her feel nervous exactly . . . just
aware
in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
    Jeff nodded. “Hey, I get it. I told you I was a daredevil, remember? I’ve suffered many a broken bone.”
    Cat grinned. “Right. If I dare you to do something, you will do it.”
    “And I’ll tell you to watch me. Typical country boy behavior, I’m afraid.” His grin was a little shy, and yet had a hint of something in it that made her pulse flutter. He cleared his throat. “Well, I hope you enjoy the cinnamon cake.”
    “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Cat found herself asking. “And I’ll be happy to share the cake with you. You should at least have a slice.”
    “I would, but I’m running late. My sister, Sara, runs an educational program for grade schoolkids on the Greenfield farm. It’s a hands-on thing teaching them about farming, called Old MacDonald’s.”
    “
E-I-E-I-O
.”
    Jeff groaned. “And the kids sing it nonstop. My dad usually drives them around the farm on a hayride, but he’s fishing with his buddies so I’m Farmer Jeff for the day.”
    “So, Farmer Jeff, shouldn’t you be wearing overalls or something?”
    “My dad does, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”
    “Well, you’re no fun.”
    “You might be surprised.”
    “Well, now . . .” Cat arched an eyebrow. “I dare you.”
    “To do what?”
    “Wear the overalls.”
    Jeff laughed. “You’re not playing fair.”
    Cat shrugged. “I want a picture.”
    “Okay.” He reached in his pocket for his cell phone. “Then I need your number.”
    “That was smooth.”
    He grinned. “I have my moments.” Jeff extended the phone toward her. “Type it in, please.”
    “Sure.” When Cat reached for the phone, his fingers grazed hers and she felt a nice little tingle. This exchange suddenly felt like flirting, which was a luxury that Cat hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. “I fully expect a picture, and you need to have a piece of straw hanging out of your mouth or something,” she added as she handed his phone back to him.
    “You’re pushing it.”
    “I usually