He frowned, his eyes glassy in the dim light drifting from the porch. “It has a noun and a verb, so I assure you, it is.”
“Okay, yes, maybe grammatically, but not content-wise.”
“Content-wise?” His heart thrummed like a truck engine with her eyes locked on his. They needed to talk—really talk—but he couldn’t bring himself to pop this bubble.
Jenna’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, you never say ‘you thought’ something without adding context.” He raised an eyebrow, and Jenna doubled down. “Seems unnecessarily past tense.”
Country grinned. “You’re going to throw that at me?”
“If you still believed you were too old for some things, you would have said, ‘I think I'm too old for a lot of things,’ but you didn't. You said thought.”
“I think I just used the wrong word.”
Jenna shook her head. “You're deflecting. That might work on the ice, but not with me.”
“You haven’t seen me on the ice in years.”
“I saw you tonight.”
That made him pause. “You were getting footage.”
“My cameraman was getting footage. I was watching you.” She caught herself. “I mean, your team.”
“Is that what you mean?”
Jenna’s lips parted, and Country’s heart tumbled like an empty box down a flight of stairs. “Never mind, I was just saying I saw you on the ice tonight.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“It’s what I meant.” She clenched her jaw and pulled the quilt to her chin.
“Why do you do that?”
Her breathing quickened. “Do what?”
“Push away like I’m a threat?”
Jenna scoffed. “You’re not a threat?—”
“You’re doing it right now.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes blazing. “I was trying to have a conver?—”
“We were having a nice conversation until your walls dropped!” He rubbed his toque into his hair and squinched his eyes, all the frustration from the past week bubbling up like buttermilk syrup. “I’ve never given you any reason not to talk to me.”
“No, I?—”
“But you avoid me like the plague at the studio.”
Jenna pushed up on her elbows. “Are you getting mad at me because I’m busy at work?”
He laughed out loud. “Busy at work? You have plenty of time to talk to Glen Kessler or Owen, who’s possibly there to steal your job, but?—”
“What do you want me to do, Gentry? Come check on you? Hold your hand? Make sure your blush is applied correctly?”
Country shook his head. “Yeah, Jens, exactly.”
“Well, what then?”
