She dragged a circle of squash through the dip and sampled it. The subtle, rich, creamy flavors took her taste buds on a sensory roller coaster of delight.
“I love it.” She helped herself to another bite. “What’s in it?”
“Squash, macadamia nuts, tahini, roasted garlic, lemon juice.” He chewed a bite of carrot. “The olive oil’s excellent.”
“Excellent enough to establish a truce between us?”
Their eyes met.
“I’m sorry about Monday.” She set her palm against the counter’s lip as if doing so might steady her. “When I realized that you’d searched the cottage for Oxy, it made me feel, well, crummy. You’re completely entitled to search, of course. But after hanging out with me and listening to me talk about everything I’ve been through to make it this far past withdrawal ... I’d hoped that you believed in me.”
“I do believe in you. I didn’t want to find Oxy. But when I gotyour text and suspected that you weren’t telling the truth about where you were, I felt like I needed to check.”
“I get it.” Thoughtfully, she ate a piece of zucchini and hummus. “You were right when you said that I respond to discomfort with lies. I’m going to work on that. In the heat of the moment, I got defensive and said things I didn’t mean that I now regret. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes. I’m sorry that my search of your guesthouse made you feel crummy.”
“I forgive you. The truth is that I don’t want you to write me off. I need people like you and Natasha to call me out when I mess up. Even if it doesn’t feel great at first to be called out. Even if I don’t respond well. All right?”
“All right.”
She waited for him to say that he needed people, too, for the same reasons. But he said nothing more. Stubborn, complicated,wonderfulSam. “Are we okay?” she asked.
“We’re okay.” As if that settled it, he went to the cutting board and began slicing tomatoes with fast precision.
She’d made peace with Sam. Relief started to unknot the tension she’d been carrying since their argument. Quiet, slow bluegrass music hummed on the air.
“What can I do?” she belatedly remembered to ask.
“I’ll put you to work in a minute.”
On top of his very professional range, a pot boiled next to a sauté pan and a cast iron skillet that supported a melting square of butter. He arranged the tomatoes on a plate and began prepping asparagus. “I’ve been watching your videos,” he said.
“My videos?”
“The video teaching sessions fromBearer of a Woman’s Soul.”
“Youhave?” she exclaimed, astonished.
“You’re a brilliant speaker.”
“Iam?”
“Yep,” he answered patiently.
He was doing one of her studies? Sam thought she was a brilliant speaker?
She had women in mind when she researched and wrote her studies and when she shared from her own life in print and on stage. On the rare occasions when she discovered that a man had done one of the studies or watched her videos, it always felt a little like discovering that a boy had infiltrated a tree house meeting for girls only.
Sam was one of the most manly men she knew. Imagining him watching her videos was equal parts endearing and disconcerting. “Have you been doing the homework that goes along with the videos?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re not following the order?”
He lifted a brow. “Are you going to issue me a fine?”
“I’d like to!”
