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her guinea pigs. Now it’s your turn.”
    “Mitch, you get a plate and silverware out.”
    “I’m not eating all this by myself.” But he obeyed, going to the cupboard and lifting out a short stack of dishes.
    Aunt Mamie sucked in a sharp breath. “Why, Mitch, honey. Y’all are more hurt than you know. Just look at your poor feet!” Aghast, Aunt Mamie stared down at Mitch’s bare feet. “You need to see a doctor pronto.”
    Mitch looked down at his feet and started to laugh. Bunions and corns were the least of it. His feet were beyond ugly with purple bruises and thick, hardened skin over the joints, and black, cracked nails. In fact, all things considered, his feet were looking better than usual. He’d danced with ulcers between his toes, sprains and even broken toes.
    “This isn’t from the accident. This is how my feet always look.”
    Mamie looked even more horrified. She turned to Web as though expecting him to come up with a solution. Web grimaced. He was staring at Mitch’s feet too.
    Mitch set the stack of dishes on the table. “All professional ballet dancers have feet like this. It’s normal,” he reassured Mamie.
    Or tried to reassure her. Mamie wasn’t buying it for a moment. “Why, that’s plum terrible. Y’all look so elegant and graceful and that’s what’s going on all the time?”
    Mitch shrugged. “That’s just the life of a dancer. Anyway, it looks worse than it feels.” That wasn’t quite true. There had been times when he’d been sure getting stabbed with a hot poker would have hurt less than dancing on bleeding feet. But it was most definitely the life of a dancer. He glanced at Web.
    Meeting his gaze, Web shook his head. He could have meant anything from you’re a nutcase to you’re one tough hombre. Mitch took it to mean you’re a nutcase . Web hadn’t exactly embraced Mitch’s ambition to be a dancer when they were boys, and it was unlikely someone who chose to become a Texas Ranger would see a man who spent his days in leotards working over a barre as a regular guy.
    But there was no mockery in Web’s gaze. He was staring back at Mitch with every appearance of seriousness, and damn. Web Eisley was one good-looking cowboy.
    More so because, unless he’d changed a lot, he never gave a thought to his looks. He was fit from living an active life, but his idea of grooming was still probably a comb and toothpaste. Not that there was anything wrong with that—in fact, it was kind of refreshing. The men Mitch knew made their living from their physical prowess, and it was only natural that they were obsessed with their bodies and looks. He was the same. He was his own commodity, and he had to take care of himself.
    Mitch said lightly, “I still scream like a girl when I see spiders.”
    Web laughed. Mitch felt that old flare of satisfaction. He’d always liked being able to make Web laugh.
    The memory brought him back to earth. What was he doing? Sure, Web was an attractive guy. So what? If he was a cop he was undoubtedly still in the closet. And if he wasn’t in the closet, he was in a relationship. And either way, Mitch was in a relationship. Or, more exactly, recovering from a relationship, which was pretty much the same thing.
    More to the point, they lived in two completely different worlds. Worlds separated by about eighteen hundred miles.
    Mitch pulled out a chair at the table. “You may as well sit too, because no way am I trying to eat all this on my own.”
    Mamie looked at Web, who shrugged. Mitch deduced that Web had warned her they weren’t to overstay their welcome. But Mitch’s antisocial tendencies didn’t include Mamie. Or at least they didn’t now that he was confronted by the reality of her.
    Mamie sat down across from Mitch and reached for his plate. After a second, Web sat down too.
    Mamie handed Mitch’s piled plate back to him. “You need to get some meat on those bones.”
    He opened his mouth—he was all muscle and strong enough to lift a