He eyed her with something that looked suspiciously like amusement.
“Sam!” Even though his feet were inches from hers, he was stepping all over her toes. She’d hoped to maintain their cease-fire longer than two and a half minutes.
“Baste,” he said.
She huffed, picked up the spoon, and ladled butter. The cooking beef smelled mouth-watering. “The direction of my career issomething I’m going to have to think through and pray through on my own ... without intervention from my landlord.”
“And mate.”
By that, he meant friend. She softened slightly. “And thorn in my side.”
“And grocery shopper when you were crook.”
“Crook?”
“Sick.” He transferred the steaks to plates. “Dinner’s ready.”
Together, they relocated the meal to the dining room. Gorgeous cutlery waited there on top of neatly folded linen napkins.
“Sit,” he said. Then added, “Tenant.”
“And person who is donating her considerable talents to better your farm.”
“And thorn in my side.”
“And woman you called a brilliant speaker.” She took her seat with as much dignity as she could muster.
“House crasher.”
“Local girl made good.”
He bent his head to pray.
She peeked at him from beneath her lashes.
“Thank you, God, for this food, this place, and Gen. Amen.”
Was that it? She’d have required ten sentences to say what he’d said plainly in one.
He skewered a potato with his fork.
“I forgive you for ambushing me about my career,” Genevieve said.
His lips quirked. “I didn’t ask for forgiveness.”
“Nevertheless,” she said primly, “I choose to extend grace. I’ll expect grace in return should I ambush you about your career in the future.”
“If you see that I’m screwing up my career in any way, then please ambush away. Bring it on.”
He did not appear to be screwing up his career. This steak wasnot just the best thing she’d eaten this month but the best thing she’d eaten all year. It melted in her mouth, tender, with just the right amount of sear and salt. In response to the taste of it, her stomach begged her to marry him.
She noticed that he held his knife in his right hand, his fork in his left, and only rarely set either one down. Aussies seemed even more casual than Americans in most ways, but this—his style of eating—struck her as adorably proper.
They took their time over the meal, discussing the similarities and differences between her childhood in Georgia and his in Victoria, Australia.
When they’d finished eating, they angled their chairs farther from the table and continued to talk. The food and his company and the light from the fixture overhead spun a delectable spell. She didn’t want to leave. Ever. And she definitely didn’t want to break the spell, but it occurred to her that the spell might be strong enough to coax Sam to talk to her about Kayden.
“I’m interested to hear about your years in Melbourne after you graduated from the university,” she said.
