Midnight Ride by Cat Johnson Page B

let you work here for free.” The microwave chose that moment to ding, signaling her dinner was ready. She was prepared to ignore it and the smell of spiced beef hanging in the air. Tyler was not.
    He glanced at the counter. “It’s suppertime and I’m interrupting you.”
    “It’s okay. It’s just leftover chili.”
    His smile returned. “I was wondering what smelled so good. You use chipotle?”
    “Yeah. How did you know?”
    He tapped his nose. “I have a nose made for sniffing out good food.”
    Tyler also had other body parts—lean, hard, muscled parts—that looked made for enjoyable activities besides eating. She yanked herself away from her shameless thoughts. For lack of anything else, she said, “Would you like some? There’s plenty.”
    What the hell was she thinking, asking this hot young guy to dinner? The offer had been vague enough that maybe he’d just say yes to a plastic container to go.
    “I’d love to stay and eat with you.” His smile lit his face.
    Or maybe not . . . “Okay. Great. I’ll just grab another bowl and microwave some more.”
    “Sounds good. I got the spoon.” He moved to the correct drawer and pulled out one of the big soupspoons to match the one she’d laid out on the table for herself.
    This man not only remembered where the utensils were kept, but he was setting another place at her table without her asking him to. All after she’d only known him for one day.
    He caught her watching him as he reached into the holder on the counter for a paper napkin. “Something the matter?”
    His question knocked her out of her trance. She yanked open the fridge and took the container out for the second time that day. Talking while she worked seemed to make it easier. “Not really. I was just thinking that somebody raised you right.”
    Ugh. She sounded like some old granny talking about his manners. Tyler didn’t seem to mind. He laughed and held up the spoon. “Or my mouth’s just watering from the smell of that chili.”
    “Here. This one’s hot.” She took the piping bowl out of the microwave and set it on the table. “Sit and eat. I’ll heat up more and join you in a minute.”
    Tyler eyed the steaming bowl on the table. “Ladies first. What kind of gentleman would I be if I started to eat before you?”
    “No. Guests first. What kind of hostess would I be if I ate before you?”
    “All right. You got me there.” Conceding the point, he tipped his head. “Thank you much. I don’t mind if I do.”
    He sat, his long legs and lean muscles filling the chair and the space beneath the table. She felt the strangeness of seeing a man at her table again after what felt like a long absence. He dug the spoon into the steaming bowl, and for the first time in a while, Janie felt a sense of accomplishment, pride in having cooked a good meal for someone to appreciate.
    She turned her attention to her own meal. The microwave chugged away on the counter with her bowl of chili inside as she watched the seconds tick down. It seemed like as good an occupation as any. Far better than staring, or trying not to stare, at her guest as he ate.
    “When’s the last time that equipment of yours was tuned up?”
    “I don’t know. Tom handled all that. Probably last year—” Janie caught herself. Last year he’d been so sick, she couldn’t be sure he’d remembered to tell the hands to service the machines. “Possibly the year before.”
    “Tractors, the mower, the baler—equipment like that needs to be checked regularly and maintained even when it’s not being used in the off-season. I’ll take care of it for you. I’m good with machines.”
    Good with machines. Probably good with his hands.... Janie imagined there wasn’t a whole lot Tyler wasn’t good at. But still, she couldn’t let him do her any more favors. “I can’t let you—”
    He held his hand up to stop her protest. “Stop. I’m doing it.”
    “Then you have to let me pay you for your time.”
    “Nope. I