Chapter 10
Willow hadn't taken her ATV out for several months, and she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed the freedom it offered. When she'd first toured the house with her real estate agent, her attention had been drawn to the various items in the garage that would convey with the property.
Her eyes had landed first on the riding lawnmower, appreciating that it would make maintaining the yard directly around her house both easier and faster.
She'd also noted the collection of well-maintained tools, empty flower boxes stacked neatly along one wall, and then, tucked in the far back corner like a forgotten treasure, the ATV.
She'd admitted to the agent that she'd never used one but was excited to learn. He'd chuckled and pointed out that the keys were hanging on a nearby nail, as if the previous owner had simply parked it and walked away.
After closing on the property, the agent's teenage son stopped by to give her lessons on operating both pieces of equipment and presented her with a safety helmet as a housewarming gift.
The practical gesture had made her smile with genuine warmth.
In Los Angeles, housewarming gifts were typically champagne or gift certificates to exclusive clubs.
They were often expensive gestures that felt more about status than genuine care.
The helmet, with its thoughtful consideration for her safety, had meant infinitely more.
Her property was certainly expansive enough to justify regular rides, but like so many possessions that seem essential until you own them, the ATV had sat unused for longer stretches than she cared to admit.
She'd been happy to offer its use to Casper, but surprised herself when she volunteered to accompany him on the property assessment.
She was genuinely interested in understanding his security measures for her home, but the moment he'd agreed to let her come along, she realized how intimate their positions would be on the machine.
The instant her arms had wrapped around his solid middle, and she'd pressed against his broad back for stability, every nerve in her body had begun to hum with awareness.
The vibrations weren't coming from the engine, considering he hadn't even started it yet.
Those electric tingles were definitely originating from their physical contact, from the warmth of his body against hers, from the surprising comfort she found in his strength.
She had no idea if he'd felt the same current of attraction, but she'd been determined to set aside those distracting thoughts and simply enjoy the rare moment of companionship.
Now, as they walked back into the warmth of her house, her smile was still stretched across her face, fearless and unguarded. "Thank you for letting me come along. That was really fun."
He chuckled, a warm sound that rumbled in his chest, and shook his head. "I should be thanking you. It made covering the perimeter much faster, and the quicker I can get comprehensive information to my team, the sooner they can coordinate with the installers."
She nodded and turned away before her smile could fade, not wanting him to witness her disappointment.
Of course, this had been part of his job and not a recreational ride with her.
The reminder stung more than it should have, and she wondered if perhaps she'd been living in isolation too long, reading meaning into simple professional courtesy.
The thought of her upcoming trip to Los Angeles suddenly held unusual appeal. Being surrounded by crowds would help prevent her from developing inconvenient feelings for a man she'd just met that day.
Heading into the kitchen, she glanced at the digital display on her microwave. "I should start dinner. You can take care of your business, and it should be ready in about an hour."
"Willow, I don't expect you to cook for me or wait on me," he said, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been discomfort.
She turned to face him fully, studying his expression.
He maintained what could only be described as a poker face.
He was definitely the strong, silent type personified.
But in just the few hours since his arrival, she was already beginning to notice subtle tells that hinted at his thoughts.
His shoulders had tensed slightly, and something was wary in his dark eyes, though she couldn't pinpoint the source of his discomfort.
She sighed, resting her hip against the counter.
"You'll find me to be very straightforward, Casper," she said, choosing her words carefully.
"We're in a situation where I'm honestly unsure of the proper protocol.
I know I told you this earlier, but the truth still holds.
I genuinely enjoy cooking, but eating alone has lost most of its pleasure for me.
It's also impractical to prepare meals for just one person.
I always end up with too much food or too little variety.
" She gestured toward her well-appointed kitchen.
"Cooking while you're here is something I can easily manage, and it's certainly no trouble for me. "
His wary expression gradually morphed into something more approachable as his lips quirked upward in the ghost of a smile.
The tension left his shoulders as he nodded slowly.
"In that case, I'd be honored to share meals with you.
If you want to get started on dinner, I'll finish my report and send it to the team.
Then I'll come back and help with whatever needs doing. "
The ease that returned to his posture made her feel lighter, as if she'd navigated some invisible social-professional minefield successfully.
While they would probably only work together during her Los Angeles trip and until her house security was upgraded, she wanted their time together to be pleasant for both of them.
"That sounds perfect," she said, inclining her head in acknowledgment.
She retrieved the ground beef from the refrigerator and, using her grandmother's recipe for meatloaf enhanced with a tangy barbecue glaze, blended the ingredients. After sliding it into the preheated oven, she turned her attention to the stovetop, where a rich cheese sauce bubbled.
When Casper returned from completing his report, he paused at the kitchen sink to wash his hands before leaning casually against the counter. "What can I help with?"
"You can set the table if you don't mind. I have iced tea or beer in the refrigerator. Choose whatever you prefer."
"What are you planning to drink?"
"I think I'll have a beer tonight."
He nodded and moved to the refrigerator, retrieving two bottles and popping off the caps with practiced ease.
"Before you ask, I don't need mine poured into a glass," she said with a grin. "That's one less dish for me to wash later."
His laughter burst out suddenly, transforming his entire face from rugged and intimidating to something she struggled to define.
As his eyes met hers, holding her gaze with unexpected warmth, the word that came to mind surprised her…
gentle. It seemed incongruous for a man of his size and obvious strength, but at that moment of unguarded amusement, gentle was exactly what he appeared to be.
He finished setting the table while she plated their meal, and they settled across from each other in the comfortable familiarity of shared domestic routine.
"This looks incredible," he said, studying the barbecue-glazed meatloaf, creamy macaroni and cheese, and broccoli arranged on his plate. "Not exactly what I expected you might serve, but I can't tell you how glad I am for real food like this."
She laughed, delighted by his obvious appreciation. "Did you think I was going to serve caviar on toast points with escargot for an appetizer?"
"I honestly didn't know what to expect, but I'm glad as hell you didn't go that route.”
They both laughed before attacking the hearty meal with the enthusiasm of people who'd spent the afternoon outdoors in crisp weather. The conversation flowed as easily as the beer, touching on everything from Nebraska weather patterns to the challenges of maintaining rural property.
As they finished the main course, she rose and retrieved a decadent cheesecake from the refrigerator, cutting generous slices for both of them. "Before you ask whether this is homemade, it's not. I spotted this beauty at the grocery store yesterday and couldn't resist."
By the time their forks had scraped the last crumbs of dessert from their plates, they both leaned back in their chairs with satisfied sighs, their gazes still comfortably connected across the table.
"You mentioned earlier that you don't have much company out here," Casper said, shifting slightly into what she recognized as his professional mode. "Can you tell me who has actually visited this house?"
"I have a few close friends from my university days.
We try to video chat at least once a month, sometimes more often, depending on our schedules.
Soon after I moved in two years ago, they all came out for a long weekend, so sleeping arrangements were a bit cramped.
" She smiled at the memory. "Sophie Williams shared my bedroom, Carlos Mendoza took the guest room, and I set up an air mattress in the study for James Sullivan. "
She watched as he made notes, and her stomach twisted with an unwelcome mixture of understanding and resentment. "None of those three would ever do anything to harm me, Casper. I've known them for over thirteen years."
He looked up from his tablet and nodded slowly, his expression serious but not accusatory.
"Willow, I'm not casting suspicion on anyone or making accusations.
But it helps me to understand who's in your innermost circle and who's actually been inside this house.
It's all about creating a complete picture. "