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My expression and long-suffering sigh must have given my thoughtsaway.
“I’m comfortable,” he grumbled. “Don’tfuss.”
I raised a brow. “Men who are sick are usually bigbabies.”
Grant chuckled. “IsLiam?”
“No, he just turns ornery,” I replied, remembering the time Liam was sidelined for a month because he hurt hisback.
His face sobered. “Can’t thank you both enough for rescuing my ass outthere.”
“Anyone in our place would have done thesame.”
“I doubt that.” He nodded at the space beside him. “Sit. Tell me about yourart.”
“I’m fine standing,” I replied too quickly that I blushed, feeling the heat steal up mycheeks.
His mouth twitched. “You make it so goddamnedhard…”
“I don’t understand.” I totally understood if his heated gaze were anything to goby.
He gave a shake of his head, his wry grin letting me know I knew exactly what he meant, but he was letting me off the hook with his eyes giving me an explicit “later.”
“Do you sell yourart?”
I did, but this conversation could be tricky. “Yes.”
He waited for me to say more. When I wasn’t volunteering additional information, he followed up with more questions. “Where?How?”
“A gallery in Vail.” That was true, but I was an anonymous artist only known as Nyuki, which was Swahili for “bee.” I dropped off the paintings and I was paid by direct deposit. I never met with clients or did any specialorders.
“What’s the name of thegallery?”
I was saved from answering when the door slammed open. Liam stomped his boots at the door to shake off the snow then dragged himself in. “Damn, it’sfreezing.”
He scowled at the sight of Grant on the couch before his eyes shifted to me. “Dinner?”
“Two minutes.” I came unstuck and hurried to the kitchen. “You guys entertain each other,” I threw over myshoulder.
Grant grunted a non-response and I was sure Liam maintained his glower. Dinner could be quite entertaining. Maybe I should have made popcorninstead.
* * *
While chickenand dumplings was the cure to all illnesses, apparently it applied to grumpiness as well. The men followed me to the kitchen and hovered around the farm table which doubled as my center island. I had a bench along the long end of the table, and one chair at the short side. The other seats were scattered around thecabin.
The moment I removed the lid of the dutch oven, the aroma of homey goodness filled the kitchen. The men’s expressions brightened as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders. I smiled inwardly as I transferred the chicken into the soup to heat it through. One man was chilled to the bone from battling generator issues, while the other had not eaten for the past thirty-six hours. I couldn’t blame them fordrooling.
“Can I help?” Grant asked, coming so close to me, the heat of his body seared through my clothes. His eyes were not on me, though, but on the bubbling liquid. I was oddly envious of thefood.
“This will take another minute,” I told him and then, “You lookfamished.”
“You have no idea,” he whispered, staring longingly atdinner.
Ilaughed.
Liam cleared his throat. “I’ll get the bowls.” Then without skipping a beat, he added, “Thorne, you might want to step back from Blaire,yeah?”
Grant turned slowly to face Liam. “You’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was flat, but there was no question that his patience was at anend.
