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“It’s not like we’re the best of friends. I have a purpose for being here...you don’t.” She bit her lip, her gaze acknowledging that fact, but there was something else there, something she wasn’t saying, that she held back. Kane didn’t want to care, but he couldn’t seem to help himself, saying roughly, “Listen, you’ve got your reasons for coming and it’s none of my business. All I’m saying is that I can’t leave because I made a commitment to the Bradfords. You can stay or go, your choice, but if you choose to stay, it could be awkward.”
    â€œSo you wouldn’t care if I stayed?”
    Hell yes, he would care. “No,” he lied, because there was no sense in adding more fuel to the fire. The fact was, there was some truth to her accusation that he’d left her behind, but she didn’t know the whole story, nor would he tell her, either—that was his gift to her, even if she never knew the whole of it. But he supposed if his arm were twisted, he’d have to admit there was no harm in letting her hang out if she needed to. The ranch was plenty big enough. Hell, he could take the pump house and let her stay in her old bedroom. He exhaled a long breath, prepared to do the one thing he never saw himself doing. “We got off on the wrong foot...you can stay. I’ll move out to the pump house and give you the room. If we stay out of each other’s hair, everything should be fine. We’re adults, right?”
    â€œYeah,” she agreed and damn, if that wasn’t the right thing to remind each other at the moment because he was fairly certain she was remembering what they’d
almost
done this morning as
adults
. She cleared her throat and smiled, gesturing to the coffeepot. “So, how about we share a pot of coffee and start over? Can we do that?”
    Sure. And maybe she could stop being so damn easy on the eyes? He cut his gaze away, needing a minute to school his thoughts before they gave him away. “How long you thinking of staying?” he asked, needing to know how long he’d have to suffer the constant barrage of the past in the form of the present.
    â€œJust a few days, I suspect. That okay?”
    He grunted in answer. “Sure. I can handle a few days.” He reached for the pot and poured himself a mug, then, because he was practically raised by Cora to do the right thing, he poured Laci a mug as well before moving to the oven where he pulled out the pie. “Grab some plates, will you?” he asked and Laci smiled with delight as she did so.
    â€œCora made peach pie before she left? That dear old thing is the living embodiment of Betty Crocker and I love her for it,” Laci said, accepting a slice from him.
    â€œYeah, and Warren gave her hell for it, too. She’s real sick, Laci. I don’t know if that treatment is going to do a bit of good at this point.”
    â€œReally?” Laci’s expression dimmed as she took a bite, but a smile lifted her mouth as she appreciated Cora’s talent for the culinary arts. “I never could match her recipe, no matter how hard I tried. That woman has magic in her fingers when it comes to the kitchen.”
    â€œYou come pretty damn close,” he grudgingly admitted between bites, trying not to think too hard on how natural it felt to sit here with Laci, talking about pie, because it wasn’t natural at all. Not in the least. He’d left for a reason and he could tell by the way things had panned out for Laci that his choice had been the smart one.
So don’t start romanticizing sharing a slice of pie
, he warned himself. He finished up and brought his plate to the sink where he started to wash up, when Laci joined him and took the plate from him.
    â€œI got this,” she said. “You’ve got chores to do. The least I can do is clean up.”
    â€œThanks,” he said, hating how the morning light