Free Must Love Cowboys by Cheryl Brooks Page A

“We’ll eat anything.”
    A short chuckle escaped me. “Somehow I doubt that. What about the style? Italian, French, Asian, Indian? Or strictly American?”
    Bull seemed impressed. “You know how to cook all that stuff?”
    â€œSome of it,” I admitted. “But with Internet access and a computer, I can find a recipe for just about anything.” I plated up the sandwiches and carried them over to the table. “All I need are the proper ingredients.”
    I stopped short when I saw the pie. Or what was left of it. “Hmm…” Apparently all cowboys considered a fourth of a pie to be the standard serving. “Definitely need to make another pie.” I couldn’t complain. After the way Grandpa picked at his food, watching food disappear was a welcome sight.
    â€œI doubt it would go to waste,” Wyatt said.
    I was standing right next to him, so when he stretched out his arm behind me, for a moment I thought he was going to wrap it around my hips and pull me in for a hug. I held my breath for a second or two, then blew it out, strangely disappointed when he lowered his hand.
    â€œGuess I’d better get started on it then.” I turned and walked away.
    Had he meant to hug me and stopped himself? Or was I imagining things? Dean would’ve done it. I was sure of that. Wyatt was different—not nearly as free with his attentions or affections. That wink was probably all I would ever get from him. Funny how it seemed to mean more than a kiss from Dean.
    A sidelong glance caught him rubbing his right shoulder, then stretching his arm out again.
    â€œSomething wrong with your shoulder?” The words were out of my mouth before I even had time to think.
    â€œYeah. Wrenched it a few days ago. Hurt like a son-ofabitch while I was driving.” He raised his shoulder and rotated it a couple of times.
    Clearly he hadn’t meant to hug me at all.
    Story of my life.
    â€œI keep telling you to go see a chiropractor,” Bull said. “Why doesn’t anybody ever listen to me?”
    â€œWhen have I had time to go to a chiropractor?” Wyatt retorted. “Besides, you know how they are; they want you to come back twice a week or some such bullshit.”
    â€œIt’s not bullshit if it helps,” Bull snapped. “But you always were a stubborn bastard.”
    â€œA heating pad or a massage might help.” Once again, I spoke without thinking.
    I really need to stop doing that.
    â€œMaybe.” What was going on in Wyatt’s head was anyone’s guess, but the look he gave me could’ve bored a hole through steel.
    Obviously, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. If he was as stubborn as Bull claimed, he certainly wouldn’t take any advice from me.
    Electing to drop the subject before I irritated him any further, I started on the second pie. One nice thing about apple pie, it was pretty simple. I’d even found a nifty gadget that would simultaneously peel, slice, and core an apple with a few turns of a crank.
    I was mixing the dough for the crust when the guys finished and put their plates in the sink.
    Yawning, Bull announced, “I think I’ll take a nap until it’s time to feed the horses.”
    â€œGood idea,” I said. “You guys must be exhausted.”
    Bull headed through the doorway to the mess hall, leaving me alone with Wyatt. I caught myself holding my breath again as he paused behind me. Heat flowed from him like a summer breeze.
    â€œYou don’t have to do that.” His breath tickled my ear, tightening my skin into tingling goose bumps. “We could eat the rest of the pie and no one else would ever know.”
    My laugh was as weak as my wobbly knees. He wasn’t even touching me and I could barely stand up. I’d be dropping the pastry blender next. “Think you could get Bull to keep the secret?”
    â€œI dunno. Maybe not.”
    â€œReally? Angela said