HE'S IN LOVE ALSO

tractors or work. He'd made love to Rose last night, and somehow everything in his life had changed.

Maybe that meant he was in love?

Just the thought of it should have scared him, but for some strange reason-maybe because he'd had too much coffee too fast-it only made him walk faster.

He made it to the main house in record time.

"Where's the fire?" Bobby opened the kitchen door. "You almost mowed Gus down."

"That dog of yours shouldn't park himself on the step." He reached over and gave the dog a quick Pat of apology before entering the kitchen.

"Stay there, Gus," Bobby told the dog. "I will bring out some leftovers." He lowered his voice in words meant only for Andrew. "Don't eat anything except the scones, no matter what."

"Scones?" surprised, Andrew said the word too loud, which caused Francisca to answer.

"There aren't too many left," she said, looking a little harried in Mrs Martin oversize apron. The counters were covered with cooking equipment, the smell of burned sausage heavy in the air, and Francisca was dusted with flour from head to toe. She didn't seem to notice that the kitchen looked like it had exploded. "But there's still lots of pancakes, if you'd like some."

Andrew looked over to the table and saw exactly whom he needed to see. Immediately, the morning seemed a little brighter, as Rose met his relieved smile with the barest shake of head. "I will have a scone, Francisca, but I've already had breakfast, thanks," Andrew replied.

"Wise man," Rose whispered as he neared the table. Francisca had used a flowery table cloth and stuck a fistful of wildflowers in a vase.

"Sit down," the younger woman called. "I will bring it over to you."

"You don't have to wait on me," Andrew said, while trying to pull out a chair near Rose's without getting the folds of the table cloth caught on the seat.

"It's my job," Francisca said, placing a mug of steaming coffee and a scone in front of him.

"Francisca's been up since five," Rose said.

"And you?" Andrew wanted to lean across the table and kiss her, just to make sure she was still his. Just to make sure she remembered last night.

"I slept late," she admitted.

"Try the scone things," Bobby urged, pulling up a chair. "They're darned good."

"Okay." Andrew picked up the triangle of dough and took a bite. Sure enough, the raisin-dotted biscuit tasted good, but he would have been content with sawdust if Rose had been sitting in the same room. Andrew reached for his coffee and hoped he didn't look like a lovesick fool.

A man had his pride, after all.

"I'LL CLEAN UP," Rose volunteered, running water into the sink as Francisca stacked the dirty dishes on the counter. The men had gone outside to discuss the work for the day, something about budgets and fences and cattle with horses and all that. Francisca decided she would never be much of a horsewoman.

Even the thought of riding more than one mile made her thighs ache, and no matter how big the brim of the hat she wore, the sun still gave her a headache.

Francisca shook her head. "No. This is my job."

"I can't just sit around and watch you work," Rose said. "Come on, we are in this together. And it was my dog who made Mrs Martin quit. If you want to do the cooking, fine. But let me help with the dishes, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Francisca desperately wanted to prove that she could do it all herself, but she hated washing dishes. Not everything was going to fit in the dishwasher, either, which meant those greasy frying pans with the burned sausages were going to require some scrubbing.

"Yes. Go clean up and start planning your wedding."

"Bobby said he'd take me into town to get things set up, like the food and the place and all that. And I need to get groceries and buy a flour sifter. I couldn't find pure vanilla extract in the cupboard, either. I think Mrs Martin used the artificial..."

"Francisca," her aunt interrupted. "Go."

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