Always Dakota by Debbie Macomber Page A

entire meal on my own, but Sadie convinced me to start with something less demanding before tackling a five-course holiday dinner. So…”
    “So in other words Sadie made the turkey?”
    Margaret nodded. Well, the turkey and everything else. It hardly seemed surprising that she was pretty much of a lost cause when it came to finding her way around a kitchen. After all, she’d never spent any time learning those skills—she was a rancher, not a cook. The important thing was that, dinner aside, he’d chosen to spend the day with her.
    Matt glanced at the table already set. “I’m glad not to be alone today. That’s what really matters—not the turkey.”
    His words seemed to echo her thoughts, which flustered her so much, she said the next thing that popped into her mind. “Would you like a beer before we eat?”
    “Sure.”
    Hands and heart trembling, she removed two cans from the refrigerator, emptied them into tall tumblers, then took him to the library. It was her father’s favorite room, and hers, too. They sat in the high-back leather chairs, on opposite sides of the brick fireplace. She’d laid a small fire earlier and lit it just before he arrived. It provided a comforting warmth…and a sensation of intimacy.
    At first the silence between them was awkward. Then Matt asked her a question about a new worming product for cattle, and before she knew it, they’d talked nearly an hour. Matt seemed as delighted as she by how easily their conversation had gone.
    “I don’t generally talk cattle with women,” he told her, drinking the last of his beer.
    Margaret wasn’t sure what he was telling her. He seemed to be implying that he didn’t think of her as a woman, which she found downright depressing. Especially since she’d taken pains to put on a dress. A dress, panty hose, the whole nine yards. It was the same outfit she’d worn for her father’s funeral, although he wouldn’t know that, seeing he hadn’t attended the services.
    “I’d better check on dinner,” she said, bolting out of her chair.
    “Margaret.” He stopped her as soon as she stood. “Did I say something wrong?”
    She shook her head, then decided he probably wanted the truth. “If you don’t talk cattle with other women, then what do you talk about?” She sat on the ottoman facing him, staring at him intently.
    Her question appeared to pull him up short, and he avoided eye contact before responding. “We talk about this and that. Nothing important.”
    “Oh.”
    “I enjoyed our conversation if that’s what concerns you.”
    The tension eased out of her shoulders. This was as good as a compliment. She blushed and looked away. “I enjoyed it, too.” At ease once more, she said, “I’ll check on dinner and get us another beer.” She reached for the empty tumblers.
    “Good idea,” Matt called after her.
    She wasn’t gone long and when she returned they chatted again, this time on a variety of subjects—Buffalo Valley’s past and present, the feasibility of raising bison, like Jeb McKenna did, politics, religion and western movies. The beer loosened her inhibitions, and soon they were sharing a few jokes. It felt good to laugh, and to know he considered her a friend. The only other person she felt as comfortable around was Maddy McKenna. But this was different. Better.
    “Are you planning to kiss me again?” The beer had given her courage to ask what had been on her mind for weeks.
    “Do you want me to?”
    “Oh, yes.” She nodded eagerly. “In the worst way.”
    He cast his gaze down at his beer. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
    As far as she was concerned, it was a helluva great idea. “Okay, okay, maybe we should eat first, then check out how we feel afterward.”
    It didn’t help her ego any to see the blatant relief on his face. His attitude was playing havoc with her theory that he’d enjoyed their kisses.
    Dinner was superb. Sadie might not have approved of Margaret’s inviting Matt