Page 60 of The Wedding Gift

“I can believe it after what just happened,” Dalton nodded. “Just follow your nose to the kitchen when you’ve taken a shower.” He finally closed the door and left her alone.

The air conditioner kicked on, and cold air flowing down from a vent in the ceiling sent shivers up and down Becca’sbody. She turned on the water in the shower and quickly slipped out of her clothing.

“Of all the days for me to wear faded blue cotton underpants,” she groaned as she peeled them down from her hips. When she was completely naked, she threw her jeans, socks, shirt, and underwear out into the hallway and fought the urge to cuss when the panties landed a foot from the rest of her things.

She stepped into the shower and was surprised to find a bottle of lavender-scented shampoo and matching conditioner. “Well, that proves he keeps things ready for the women he brings home with him,” she muttered as she worked some of the shampoo into her hair.

When she’d finished, she slid back the glass door, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around her long hair and used a second one to dry her body. Then she slipped on the white terry robe and wondered how many other women had worn it while they had breakfast with him. Just as he’d suggested, she followed the smell of coffee down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Have a seat.” Dalton motioned toward the wooden table with four chairs around it. “Have a cookie while I pour coffee. Cream and sugar?”

“Nope, just black, and thank you.” She felt very vulnerable wearing nothing but a robe that could be opened with only a tug on its belt.

“Your stuff is all in the washer. The cycle will be done in a few minutes, and we’ll throw them into the dryer. I’m not sure what to do about your sneakers. I sprayed them off in the sink, but…”

“I’ve gone barefoot before.” She pulled out a chair and sat down.

He brought two mugs of coffee to the table and sat down across from her. “Me too, but that was when I was a kid. If your feet weren’t so small, you could wear my rubber boots.”

“Only little part of my whole body. I’ve been told lots of times that someone who’s six feet tall shouldn’t wear a size six shoe.” She picked up a cookie and bit into it. “Are these homemade?”

“My nana believed that a boy should be just as at home in the kitchen as the barn. If I’d had a sister, she would have made her haul hay and work cattle, but I’m an only child,” he answered. “When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“So do I.” She took a sip of her coffee and then set the mug back on the table. “I like to cook, but I really love baking.”

“We should have a cookie evening,” he suggested. “How about tonight?”

“I’ve got plans for the next couple of nights,” she answered, “but Thursday is free. My place or yours?”

“Mine,” he replied. “I’ll have everything ready. You bringa bottle of wine, and we’ll make sugar cookies. According to Austin and Rye, they go really good with watermelon wine.”

“Grammie has an amazing recipe for sugar cookies. I’ll bring a copy with me,” she said.

What am I doing?she scolded herself. A week ago, she wouldn’t have given Dalton the time of day, and she really didn’t like Tuff. How could things have changed so fast?

“I’ve got one question before we do this,” she said.

“Shoot.” He grinned. “But I assure you, I keep a full pantry, so when I’m in the mood to cook, I’ve got what I need.”

“How many women have worn this robe?”

“One, and that’s you. I don’t share my toys with others very well,” he answered.

“Then why is there lavender-scented shampoo in your shower?” she asked.

“My mama likes it, and last week she was down here helping me get my spring cleaning done,” he answered. “I don’t bring women to the ranch, Becca. I’m not a saint, and probably seventy percent of what you’ve heard about me is pure truth, but when I spend the night with a woman, it’s not at my place.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because someday I will settle down, and this will be my home until I can have enough saved for my own ranch.I wouldn’t want my wife to feel the ghosts of girlfriends past every time she turned a corner,” he answered.

“That’s pretty nice of you,” she said and picked up a second cookie.

Dalton grinned as he pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’m just a nice cowboy. The washer just quit. I’ll throw your things over into the dryer.”

He had just gotten her stuff into the dryer when his phone rang. He slipped it out of the hip pocket of his jeans, saw that it was Rye, and answered on the second ring.

“Hey, how’s things in Florida?”