Never Too Hot by Bella Andre Page B

herself anyway. So, really, what was the big deal of making enough for two? She’d feel horrible sitting in the dining room eating while he starved. Especially given how much he worked out. If it had been a woman who’d shown up on her porch yesterday, would she have made such a big stinking deal about the whole thing?
    No, of course not.
    Really, she told herself as she put the bananas back in her cart and continued through the meat aisle, picking up a roast and some ground turkey, she’d always liked to cook. And meals for one could get kind of boring, unless you didn’t mind tons of leftovers. For the next few days, she’d get a chance to make a few of the new recipes she’d ripped out of Cooking Light magazine. That’d be fun.
    And then he’d leave and she’d get back to her normal life. Cabin all to herself. Free to do what she wanted, when she wanted, with no input from anyone else.
    Funny how it no longer sounded quite as good as it once had.
    Thirty minutes later she pulled up at Poplar Cove beside a classic Ford truck. Quickly guessing that Connor had traded in his rental, she was pleasantly surprised by his choice. She would have figured a firefighter would choose one of those monster trucks on huge tires, the ones you needed a ladder to climb into. Not something with dents and scratches. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked in the window and saw duct tape all over the seats.
    It all went back to first impressions and how incorrect they could be. Because here was more proof that Connor was nothing like her ex-husband. Jeremy wouldn’t have been caught dead in a beat-up old truck.
    Grocery bags in hand, Ginger walked up the porch stairs to the sounds of hammering. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of a man who actually knew how to do more than screw in a lightbulb. Telling herself there were plenty of things sexier than a guy who knew how to use hand tools—although right at this moment she couldn’t think of any—she took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen.
    He didn’t notice her at first and for good reason. He’d pulled the old stove out from the wall and was kneeling in front of a panel of very confusing-looking wires. Not wanting him to electrocute himself on her account, she was about to turn around and leave when he looked up.
    And then, before she realized what he was doing, he took the grocery bags from her and started emptying out the contents on the Formica countertops. Her ex had never done that. He’d been very clear about what was women’s work and what was men’s work.
    Then again, Jeremy hadn’t known how to hammer in a nail or rewire an electrical system either. Why, she wondered, had she let him get away with doing so little outside of the office? Why hadn’t she ever thought to ask for what she wanted?
    “I should have checked with you before I started tearing apart the kitchen,” Connor said, and she appreciated the apology behind his words. “Fortunately, the refrigerator is on a different breaker.”
    Realizing she was standing there like an idiot, she moved next to him to start putting the meat and cheese away. In the small kitchen, she caught the heady scent of him, the clean smell of a man hard at work making things safe. Opening up the fridge, she was glad for the cool rush of air.
    Between the two of them, the task of putting everything away was quickly done, leaving her feeling awkward. He picked up a screwdriver and squatted down over the electrical box when she jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
    “I’ll get out of your way. I was just going to head out to the porch to paint.”
    Out on the porch, she set up her paints and canvas. Usually, within seconds, she was hard at work. Today, however, a good five minutes passed before she realized she was still mixing red and orange, the colors having gone an ugly brown.
    She turned and looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen. It was quiet back there now as he redid the wires, and she supposed she