“In here.” Her sister-in-law’s voice came from the kitchen.

Miranda bolted down the hall and through the kitchen door, where she stopped dead.

The room was filled with people—very large people. But her attention fixed immediately on the man leaning against the counter at the far side of the kitchen, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, his golden hair glistening in a slanting sunbeam. Joy flooded through her body like a brilliant white light, warming away the morning chill, erasing her aches and pains, sending the corners of her mouth upward in an uncontrollable smile. “Luke!”

Every face in the room turned in her direction. She dialed back her smile and forced herself to look at the rest of the visitors in the kitchen, some seated at the table with mugs of steaming coffee, some lounging against the counters like Luke. Three were obviously athletes. One looked to be a local farmer. The fifth, a lean, dark-haired man with a wicked glint in his green eyes, seemed out of place, despite his jeans and casual jacket.

When she met Luke’s eyes again, the blast of joy had faded. He wouldn’t have brought all this company if he had planned a romantic reconciliation. She was an idiot to dream of it for even a second. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He had straightened away from the counter, his expression unreadable. She imagined that’s the way he looked on the football field when surveying the opposition, giving nothing away.

“I heard you might need some help,” he said.

She did her best to ignore the weight of all the gazes in the room. “I can’t imagine who you heard it from, but it was kind of you to come.” She glanced around the room with as much of a smile as she could muster. “And to bring reinforcements.”

Why was he here?

He’d made it clear that their relationship was over now that he was back in the game.

Then it hit her: he’d found out Orin had fired her, and he felt responsible.

“I brought a dairyman and a couple of cattlemen,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Kort Gorman here’s a Cheesehead from Wisconsin. Greer Davis and Tank Shetler are Longhorns. Kort says he’s in charge.”

The giant men nodded politely to her before razzing their teammate about his qualifications as a supervisor.

“Oh, and this is Gavin Miller, the writer.” Luke tilted his head toward the dark-haired man sipping his coffee. “I’m not sure why he’s here.”

“You write the Julian Best novels,” Miranda said, recognition dawning. He was one of Luke’s new friends. “They’re fantastic.”

Miller’s eyes held an odd shadow, but he gave her a charmingly rakish smile. “My compliments on your good taste in literature.” He threw a glance at Luke. “Contrary to Archer’s assessment, I am quite good around farm animals, so I believe I can contribute.”

Patty slid between the men to bring a mug of coffee to Miranda. “They landed their helicopter in Jim Tanner’s field, and he drove them over.” She nodded toward the farmer before leaning close to Miranda’s ear to whisper, “What the heck is going on? I thought you two broke up.”

Miranda took a sip of the fragrant coffee before she murmured back, “I have no idea.”

“I understand you have a cheese truck to load,” Luke said. “Let’s get it done.”

The unmistakable edge of command in his voice brought everyone to their feet. Now the kitchen walls seemed barely able to contain the mass of colossal shoulders, tree-trunk thighs, and swelling biceps.

Gratitude loosened the tension of wondering how she was supposed to respond to all this. She didn’t have to lug all those heavy hunks of cheese from the cave to the van. Tears of relief welled up in her eyes, and she had to blink hard to will them away. “Thank you all,” she said, not quite suppressing the slight break in her voice. “This way.”

She could feel the farmhouse’s hundred-year-old pine floor sag under the heavy footsteps of the men following her down the hall and out the front door. As soon as Luke stepped outside, he took charge, assigning men to vehicles. Then he slid into the passenger seat of Dennis’s pickup truck beside Miranda.

She kept her gaze on the steering wheel as she turned the key in the ignition and shifted the truck into reverse.

But the air inside the cab vibrated with Luke’s presence. His weight on the old springs of the bench seat made it slant in his direction, so she felt as though she was being pulled toward him. As she twisted to look behind her, she found his gaze turned on her, but she refused to let herself meet his eyes. She hit the gas too hard, and the truck’s tires spun on the slippery asphalt before yanking them out onto the road.

Anger scalded her. She was mad mostly at herself, for falling in love with a man she knew damn well she had no business even kissing. But she was furious with him, too, for giving her that blinding moment of hope in the kitchen. It was difficult enough to see him on television. Having him present in this confined space intensified her yearning to the point where it slashed at her like a razor blade.

She slammed the truck into drive and burned rubber again as she headed up the hill. “Why are you here?” It sounded ungracious, but she didn’t have the energy to soften it.

“I found out that you lost your job.”

She slowed down as the truck bounced on the undulating lane. “My problems with Orin started before your brother’s issue.”

“It made the problems worse. I made them worse.”