“Ellie,” he said, smiling brightly. He leaped to his feet and raced down the steps to take the bags out of her arms. “You should have said something,” he chastised as if he’d waited all day for the honor of carrying her groceries.

Ellie tried to refuse his help, but he’d have none of it. “Hey, it’s the least I can do.” It also gave him the perfect excuse to follow her into the house, Ellie noted despondently.

He set the bags on the kitchen counter and immediately started unpacking them. “Look at this,” he said as if finding a dozen eggs was akin to discovering gold. “I swear I was thinking just five minutes ago how much I’d enjoy a mushroom-and-Swiss-cheese omelet.” Gesturing like a magician, he pulled a paper sack of mushrooms free of the bag, along with a slab of Swiss cheese. “It’s fate,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

“Richard, I don’t think—”

“I’ll cook,” he said. He clasped her shoulders and backed her into a kitchen chair. “Sit down and make yourself at home.”

“I am home,” she interrupted, amused despite herself at his audacity.

He stopped a moment and smiled, then said, “So you are.”

She started to stand, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m cooking,” he said cheerfully, pushing her into the chair again.

“Richard—”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He opened the cupboard door and took out a small bowl. Before Ellie could stop him, he was whirling about her kitchen as if he’d been cooking there his entire life.

To his credit he seemed to know what he was doing.

“You look especially lovely this morning,” he said, pouring the eggs into the skillet.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ellie was in no mood for empty flattery. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Only because it’s true.” He whistled something jaunty as he edged a spatula under the omelet.

The doorbell rang and with a wave of his hand Richard motioned for her to answer it.

Ellie was too concerned with how to expel Richard from her home to be affronted by his peremptory manner—or to worry about who’d come calling unannounced. Hindsight being what it was, she wished later she’d given the matter some thought before she opened the door.

Glen Patterson stood on the other side.

Ellie’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t expected to see him.

“Glen!”

“Who is it, sweetheart?” Richard asked, stepping out of the kitchen, a dish towel tucked at his waist. He carried the frying pan and spatula in his hands and didn’t miss a beat when he saw Glen.

“Howdy, neighbor,” he called. “I’m stirring up a little brunch here. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Glen’s eyes hardened as he looked at Ellie. She tried to tell him without words that it wasn’t how it seemed; that she hadn’t asked Richard to join her, he’d come uninvited. But Glen had already formed his own opinion, and nothing she did now was likely to change it.

“I’ll be back another time,” he muttered.

“Stay,” Richard urged like a gracious host. “Cooking is one of my talents. Ask Ellie.”

It was all she could manage not to wheel around and kick Richard in the shin.

***

Three days had passed since Glen had stumbled on Richard cooking Ellie’s breakfast. Three miserable days. He still couldn’t think about it and not get mad.

He hadn’t seen Ellie, hadn’t talked to her in those three days. Generally he dropped in the feed store for supplies on Tuesday afternoons. Almost always they’d spend a few minutes together, joking, teasing, laughing. There’d been damn little of that lately. He didn’t drive into town on Tuesday, and he wasn’t eager to make the trip on Wednesday, either. It would do Ellie good to miss his company, not that he’d received any indication that she had.

Ellie preyed on his mind, making him next to useless around the ranch. Disgusted, Cal sent him out to check fence lines. If that was meant to distract him, it hadn’t worked. Grandpa Patterson used to say: never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from any direction. Well, Glen couldn’t help feeling like a fool, and his mind seemed to be spinning in every direction.

His thinking was clouded with thoughts of Ellie as he trotted back toward the ranch. When he wasn’t thinking about her, he was brooding about Richard Weston. Glen feared Richard was using the time he stayed away from Ellie to further his own cause.

If that was true, then so be it. If Ellie wanted Richard, fine, she was welcome to him but he’d figured she had more sense.

A man had his pride, too. Glen had kissed Ellie on two occasions now, and if he could recognize that they had something pretty special, why couldn’t she? Okay, so they hadn’t talked about their feelings, but Glen had been hoping to do that on Sunday. Only he couldn’t, because Richard was there, playing Julia Child.

The way he saw it, Ellie owed him an apology. She’d misled him, kissing him like she had, then cozying up to Richard. He’d never have taken Ellie for the type of woman who’d play one man against another, but he’d seen the evidence with his own eyes.

Cal was waiting for him when he led Moonshine into the barn.

“Are you picking up supplies this week or not?” Cal demanded.

“I’ll get them,” Glen replied without enthusiasm.

“If it’s a problem, I’ll drive into town myself.”

“It’s no problem,” Glen said. Damn it, he couldn’t stay away a minute longer, and he knew it.

By the time Glen cleaned up and drove into town, his throat was parched. More to fortify his courage than to cure his thirst, he decided to stop at Billy D’s for a cold beer.

Billy D himself was behind the bar when Glen sauntered in. The ranchers tended to congregate here when they came to town, and there was usually someone he knew. Billy was the friendly sort and something of an institution in Promise. He baked a decent pizza, and his fried chicken was as good as any colonel’s; but few people came to Billy D’s for the food. It was the one place in town, other than the bowling alley and the feed store, where ranchers could shoot the breeze and unwind. And at Billy’s they could do it over a beer.

“Well if it ain’t Glen Patterson himself,” Billy called out when Glen walked in.

A couple of ranchers lounging against the bar raised their hands in greeting.

Glen tipped his Stetson a little farther back on his head.

“You want a cold one?” Billy asked.

“Sounds good.” Glen stepped up to the bar and set some money down on the counter.

With practiced ease Billy slid the thick mug down the polished bar and Glen grabbed it before it flew past.

“Keep your money. It’s on the house,” Billy said, smiling broadly.

Glen arched his brows and lifted the mug to his lips. Nothing tasted better than a cold beer on a hot day, especially when it was free. It slid down the back of his throat, easing away the taste of several hours of eating dust.

“Any reason you’re giving away beer this afternoon?” he asked when he’d downed half the mug.

“Only to you,” Billy informed him.

“What’s so special about me?”

Billy gave him a look that suggested he open his eyes. “I figure you’re gonna set Richard Weston on his ear. In fact, I’m waitin’ to see it.”

Glen frowned. “I don’t have any fight with Weston.” Ellie would probably love it if he acted like an idiot—yet again—but he was finished with that game. Those two were welcome to each other. Glen had decided to wash his hands of the whole thing. If Ellie wanted to marry Richard, then he wasn’t going to stand in her way.

“You don’t care?” Billy looked as if he wanted his beer back. “Richard’s been by, and to hear him talk, he’s done everything but put an engagement ring on Ellie’s finger. You aren’t going to let that happen, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” Glen asked, hardening his heart in order to avoid showing his feelings.

Billy frowned. He braced both hands on the bar and leaned forward as though to get a better look at Glen. “You’re serious about this?”