CASEY MOVED ABOUT HER cabin that evening, setting water to boil and trying to scrape together the bits from almost-finished boxes of spaghetti to make enough for leftovers. She was in the middle of trying to pour the spaghetti into the pot without spilling it everywhere—a disaster she was remarkably good at—when the knock came. No matter how much she’d tried to convince herself that there was nothing going on with Ben and the kiss had been a one-time deal—she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know who it was, true to his word.
But she couldn’t answer the door with her hands full. In a moment, Ben pushed open the door and stuck his head in. “Anybody home?”
She dumped the rest of the spaghetti in and wiped her hands on a dishtowel, already flustered. Some part of her was surprised to find hersel
