"You’ve got no corner on being a fool," Luke said calmly. "Seems like all I do lately is chase stubborn cows and eat bad food." He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, flattening his palms on the ceiling in order to fully stretch his body.

"Get a cook," Carla said, walking past Luke to the kitchen.

As he lowered his arms, his fingertips accidentally brushed over her arm and her glossy, shoulder-length hair. The short-sleeved blouse she wore couldn’t conceal the sudden ripple of goose bumps, helpless response to his touch.

"I’ve had six cooks in the past twenty months," Luke said. "Not a one of them could hold a candle to you. I’ve missed all those dinners when you and Cash and I would sit and talk about everything and nothing, and then Cash and I would fight over who got the biggest piece of whatever pie you’d made that day. Those were good times, sunshine."

Carla’s hands gripped the pizza box too tightly. She slapped the box onto the counter and began transferring slices to a baking sheet.

"Bet you don’t miss doing the dishes afterward."she said.

"The conversation was worth it," Luke said simply.

"Oh, no you don’t," Cash said.

"I don’t what?" Luke asked.

"You don’t come sniffing around looking to make Carla your cook for the summer, leaving me with a can opener for company."

Luke smiled slowly. "Hell of an idea, Cash. Sunshine, would you – "

"Nope," Carla said quickly, interrupting.

"Why not?"

Ignoring him, Carla bent over the open stove and positioned the limp pizza as though it were a gear in a Swiss watch.

"Why not?" Luke pressed.

"Cash would starve, that’s why," she muttered.

"Slander! I can cook as well as the next man," Cash said.

"Sure," she retorted, "as long as the next man is Luke MacKenzie."

Before either man could speak, Carla spotted the brown-and-white mess at the end of the counter. Cautiously she dipped her finger in a thin white puddle that had formed on the tile next to the battered cake. Luke’s eyes followed the tip of her tongue as she tasted the goo on her finger.