“She thinks everyone needs a home-cooked meal.”

Speaking of Martha, she opened the screen door. “Oh, you’re here. Welcome. What are you doing in the dirt? Dogs, shoo.”

They must listen to Martha, too, because the dogs all took off. Logan held his hand out for Des. She slipped her hand in his and he hauled her to her feet.

“You’ll get dirty down there on the ground,” he said.

She met his gaze and her stomach fluttered. “I don’t mind getting dirty.”

His gaze held hers, and it was like something she’d never felt before—an instant connection, something hot and primal that she’d just love to explore with him—in the dark, just the two of them, alone. But just as quickly as it was there, Logan looked away.

“Come on inside. It’s hot out here.”

The house was magnificent. Old, but in great shape, with its two-story charm, and, oh, rocking chairs on the front porch to enjoy that amazing view. She loved all the flowers pouring from pots on the porch. The added color was a burst of sunshine, as well as the gardens growing off to the west side of the house. She wanted to investigate . . . everything.

Inside was just as charming as out, with polished dark-wood floors and a pretty damned amazing kitchen, with high-end appliances, everything so modern in contrast to the old-country charm of the home.

“It smells so good in here,” Colt said. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I might never go back to the set again.”

Martha’s cheeks blushed pink. “I can guarantee it’s better than takeout.”

“I’m sure it is,” Des said. “Thank you again for inviting us.”

“I’m thrilled you’re here. Logan, show them the house. Provided you’d like to see it.”

“I’d love to see it.” Des looked to Logan.

“I’ll let Martha show me around later,” Colt said, pulling up a chair at the island. “I’m going to sit here and filch some of these corn bread muffins from her. I’m starving.”

Martha laughed and grabbed a plate, setting it in front of Colt. “All right. Logan, show Des around.”

Des figured Logan was about as excited at giving her a tour as he would be at having makeup put on for a scene. But he nodded and led her out of the kitchen and into a very expansive living area. He stood in the doorway. “This is the family room.”

She walked in and perused the furniture, some modern, such as the flat-screen television, but there was a sprinkling of antique furniture, too, no doubt handed down by generations of family. She went and got a closer look at an old cabinet. She loved that it was scarred, wondering about the history of the piece.

“I love old furniture,” she said.

“It’s been there as long as I’ve been alive. I think it was my great grandmother’s.”

She nodded, sliding her hand across the old wood, then moved her way to the fireplace, admiring the stonework. She studied the photos sitting on top of the mantel—three young boys posed in an older photo. She picked it up, then turned to Logan.

“One of these boys is you.”

“Yeah. And my brothers.”

She tapped the child on the left. “That’s you?”

“Yes. The one in the middle is Luke, who’s the second oldest, and the youngest is Reid.”

“So just you three boys?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they all live here on the ranch?”

“No. Only me.”

She rolled her eyes. Getting information out of Logan was like digging out an impacted tooth. “Where do they live?”

“Luke lives in town. Reid lives in Boston.”

“They’re not ranchers like you, then?”

“No.”

She sighed. “And what do they do?”

“Luke’s a cop. Reid’s an architect.”

She moved out of the room and joined him in the hall. “Why didn’t they want to be ranchers?”

He moved down the hall. “Not in their blood.”

“Like it’s in yours?”

“I guess. There’s a mudroom this way that leads out to the other entrance, and the laundry room, and a bathroom. Not much to see here. And just bedrooms upstairs. And a couple bathrooms.”

When she didn’t start back to the kitchen, he said, “I suppose you want to see those.”

“That’d be nice. Unless you didn’t make your bed and you don’t want me to see it.”

He gave her an exasperated look. “Come on.”

They went up the stairs. There was a long hallway, with doors on either side. She stopped at the landing. “Does Martha live up here?”

He shook his head. “No. She and Ben, her husband, have their own house a little ways down the road.”

“You live here all alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Big house for just one person.”

“It suits me fine.”

She peeked her head into the first couple of rooms, all neatly maintained, then continued down the hall. “Which one’s your room?”

“The master at the end of the hall.”

“The biggest room, then.”

“Yeah. It used to be my parents’ bedroom.”

“And where are your parents now?”

“My dad died a while back. My mom’s . . . gone.”

She stopped. “Gone?”

“She took off after my dad died. Remarried a short while after. Decided ranch life wasn’t for her.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, but Des knew it must have hit him hard. It probably still hurt. “That must have sucked.”

“It did. We survived it.”

“Obviously you did since you seem to be doing well for yourself. I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks.” He opened the door to his bedroom. “See. Just a plain room. Nothing special.”

And he didn’t want her in his bedroom. Which made her curious, so she stepped in.

Typical guy’s room. Huge bed, dresser, and a chair. Big window. “Oh, there’s a deck.” She turned to him. “Do you mind?”

He looked like he minded, but he said, “Go ahead.”

She opened the French doors and walked out. “Holy shit, Logan. What a view.”

Land as far as she could see. Rolling hills, trees, cattle wandering the hillside, it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. Two chairs sat on the deck, too. She could already imagine herself popping open a beer at night or having a glass of wine and settling in to watch the moon and the stars. “This far outside the city, the stars must be amazing at night.”