Lone Star Lover by Debbi Rawlins

his plate, he’d tried to refuse, but in the end, he knew she wouldn’t eat it and he was still hungry. That’s how he knew for sure he was recovering well. His appetite had returned full force.
    “Thanks for making breakfast,” he said while he gathered their utensils and cloth napkins, and stacked their plates.
    She eyed him as if he’d done something unspeakable. “I’ll take those,” she said, scrambling to her feet.
    “I can wash them. Do we have dish soap?”
    She stared at him with blatant curiosity. “Washing is women’s work.”
    He laughed. “Ah, there’s a lot to be said for the good old days.”
    Not even a hint of a smile touched the corners of her mouth as she took the plates from him, carefully, almost as if she were trying not to touch his fingers.
    “Cook made our breakfast, so I’ll thank him for you,” she murmured, her eyes downcast. “Ruby, Trixie and I take turns washing dishes.”
    “I can help.”
    “No.” She adamantly shook her head.
    He sighed, not so anxious to pitch in, but feeling cooped up. Another sign he was feeling better. “How long have I been here in Diablo Flats?”
    She thought for a second. “Almost five days.” Then she made a face.
    “What?” He followed her gaze, looking down at his shirt, the one she’d altered for him.
    “It’s too small.”
    He tugged at the cuffs that were a half inch too short even with the piece of material she’d added. So was the hem, but it wouldn’t be noticeable once he tucked it in.
    “Kitty is getting me fabric. I’ll start sewing your new shirt this afternoon.”
    “This is fine.” He unsnapped his jeans and drew down the zipper.
    Rebecca gasped. Her eyes widened in shock, and then she spun around to avert her reddening face.
    “Hey, no.” He quickly tucked in his shirttails, snapped and zipped. “Rebecca.” He cupped his hands over her shoulders, feeling her tense. “I was just tucking my shirt into my waistband.”
    “Oh.” Her shoulders seemed to melt beneath his palms.
    “You can turn around,” he said, and lightly squeezed, struck again at how fragile she felt. It wasn’t just that she was so slender, but she had really tiny bones.
    Is that what stirred his protective instinct? Even as drugged and weak as he’d been the day Corbin had shown up, Jake had been ready to drag himself out of bed and pound the guy to a bloody pulp. Naturally he never liked seeing a woman abused physically or verbally, but his reaction had been magnified that day yet he’d barely known Rebecca.
    She hesitated, and he had to give her a gentle nudge to face him again. Her cheeks were still pink, and it finally dawned on him that in her line of work, a man taking off his clothes shouldn’t faze her.
    “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have thought you would—” She gave her head a shake, and backed away.
    “How long have you been doing this?”
    Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown.
    “Doing the kind of work you do,” he said, wishing he knew a gentler way to ask, and then wincing inwardly as shame filled her eyes.
    She immediately stared down at the floor. “I haven’t done it yet,” she said softly, her voice a thread below a whisper.
    “What do you mean?”
    She hugged her ribs tightly with one hand, bending forward slightly.
    “Rebecca.” He felt like crap for pushing but he had to know. “What did you do before you came to Diablo Flats?”
    “Please, I have to go. Cook must be waiting for me.”
    He caught her hand, and then urged her chin up until she met his eyes. “I know you don’t have to talk to me. None of this is my business. But you don’t belong here, Rebecca. Anyone can see that.”
    That she looked so sad and helpless tore at his insides. “I haven’t done it,” she repeated.
    “You mean, been with a man?” he asked, ducking his head because she’d lowered her eyelids.
    She hesitated, catching her lip with her even white teeth, biting down so hard he saw a speck of