The oven beeped. Words locked in my throat. He shouldn’t be apologizing, yet I was caught in the past.
I scurried into the kitchen, leaving him to stare at his clasped hands.
Jonah
She ate primly, cutting her roast, sliding the piece of meat through her steak sauce. Then she leaned forward ever so slightly and slipped the food between her pink lips.
The reminder of our last significant conversation had killed the awkward but comfortable air between us. I’d pulled up a bunch of channels for her to watch, many with a free trial period, not that I needed to pinch my pennies, and then I’d taken her comment and lashed out at her.
I speared a piece of medium-done roast and stuffed it in my mouth. The savory flavor bloomed over my tongue. “This is Dunn beef.”
She sawed another chunk off. “I thought so.”
Was I trying to impress her? To show her I wasn’t a useless mountain man? Everyone thought I did nothing up in my shack in the boondocks. I didn’t, but I was also no longer able to help Dad as much as he needed. Myhorseback days were done thanks to my left leg, but also, I had my own work.
These days, Dad hired out, preferring to take more of an office and oversight role. Mom had done the same and I sat out more ranch events every year. I was tired of Dad scrambling to make accommodations, and I was busy with my own job, so it hadn’t mattered.
Did Summer even remember when I had crossed paths with her and Boyd the Slapper? Two years ago, I’d made a stop at the hardware store. I’d been waiting for my order to get brought out. Summer had walked in, said a surprised and tense hi to me, and I’d nodded. She’d kept walking. The jackass hadn’t waited until I was out of earshot before snidely asking if she knew all the homeless men in town.
I hadn’t heard her reply, but now I was dying to know how she’d responded.
We ate in silence. Darkness cloaked the house.
She picked up her plate, but stopped, holding the dishes off the tabletop.
Heat prickled my body. When she set her items down and ran her hand over the polished wood, I could’ve groaned. The surface became an extension of me.
“This table is amazing. Reminds me of the north entrance of Yellowstone in the spring after the melt.”
My ears heated. Good thing my hair was long enough to hide the red tips. Goddammit, of course she’d nail the exact effect I’d gone for. She traced a finger along the river of blue epoxy poured between the slabs of black walnut. The path between the wooden frame wove like a river and the color reached the top of the wood before fading like water along a shore.
She feathered her fingertips along the edges. “So smooth. I’ve always loved these tables. There was one I wanted last year. I saw it in Kendra’s Eats and Seats, but Boyd...” Her shoulders slumped. “Just another time I listened to him when I shouldn’t’ve.”
Kendra’s Eats and Seats was a small sandwich shop and furniture store. Customers could buy the items they ate off and sat on. Local crafters used Kendra’s place to sell a lot of their wares without having to worry about the sales part of the deal. Kendra took care of it all and loved showcasing local talent.
“Was it the coffee table with a half-barrel stand and a wood and resin top?”
She tapped her finger. “That’s the one. You saw that too?”
“I made it.”
She blinked at me. Blinked again. “Youmadethat?”
“The barrel is from Copper Summit.”
Her lips parted and she continued to stare at me.
“Carrie Kloss bought the table for the dentist’s office. Pretty good work for a homeless guy, huh?” Why had I tacked on the last part? She didn’t need to deal with asshole Jonah this weekend.
The shame from yesterday returned to her eyes. I was a son of a bitch.
“I’m sorry you heard that. Boyd was insecure and I told him he was being rude.” Her lips pursed. “He pouted for a week.” She shook her head like she was coming out of a fog. “I’m surprised you work with oak barrels. Or Copper Summit.”
“Like you said, I was upset. I know Copper Summit Distillery isn’t responsible for Eli’s death. And neither are you,” I tacked on quietly.
Her eyes grew haunted. “Right,” she murmured. “Does Teller deliver the barrels?”
I frowned. “Why would he? He’s got better things to do.”
