“Craig and Maura got metextbooks. For my twenty-first birthday. You believe that?”
“Good for your brain,” Jackson said.
Louisa’s nose crinkled up all girly-like.
“I’m sure they meant well, sugarplum.” Mamie patted Louisa’s hand. “And what did you get the birthday girl?” she asked Jackson.
“Daddy’s old twenty-two,” Louisa said. “And he’s gonnatake me hunting.”
The Misses went wide-eyed and pale-faced. “Well,” Miss O said. “Bless his heart.”
Yeah, he was thinking that move was about as smart as setting off a firecracker in the only outhouse for miles, but Louisa didn’t have much of Daddy’s.
Jackson didn’t either, come right down to it, but he had memories.
Louisa had Russ.
Mamie gave his arm a squeeze. “Right nice of you,” she said. He felt an unfamiliar prickle in his eyes at the shiny gloss in hers. “He’d be right proud.”
He planted a kiss on her weathered cheek. “Thanks, Mamie.”
He stayed the rest of the weekend, even though it meant sitting through the fireworks with his dates.
They weren’t bad to talk to or look at, but they were both sporting that look girls got when they started thinking about big white dresses and diamond rings.
Made him right twitchy. But he treated them gentlemanly all the way through handing them back to the Misses.
Louisa was more than hung over for her post-birthday breakfast, so Jackson made sure she was going to live, gave his excuses to Momma and Russ, loaded Radish up, and headed home.
He had some apple pie waiting for him.
But the closer he got to home, the closer he got to crossing that line to nervous. Wouldn’t have surprised him to walk into his kitchen and find his armadillo missing.
He could hope, anyway. But he still found himself smiling over the way Anna had slung that label maker out of her bag like Miss Dolly whipped out her knitting needles. She’d looked downright adorable swinging that thing around, and the way her eyes went all dark had given him a few ideas he was best not having.
Still, he found himself wondering how a guy fell out of lovewith something like that, if he was dumb enough to fall into it in the first place.
Not his problem, though.
Not like his kitchen was.
If she’d left it a mess, wasn’t like he’d notice. Had a woman or two do a lot worse than he reckoned Anna Grace had the nerve to try.
So when he and Radish got home, her giving him a look Mamie liked to call the stink-eye for making her endure both the noise at Louisa’s party and the drive, he gave his dog a rub behind the ears and strolled all casual through his mud room and into the kitchen.
Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t sparkly clean countertops and neat little piles of screwdrivers and mismatched socks Anna probably thought didn’t belong in the kitchen. His cabinets and drawers were all labeled with surgically centered labels.
Radish sat back on her haunches in front of the table, stink-eye getting stinkier. He rubbed a hand over his head. “Think I got the better end of this one, huh, girl?”
He had half a mind to call up Anna and invite her to dinner to thank her, but once he talked the number out of Kaci, he’d probably have a heck of a time convincing Anna to let him pay.
Crazy woman.
He slid open the drawer next to the oven and found his hot mitts, just like the label said. It peeled off easy, no damage to the drawer. He added a bottle of wine to that dinner he’d probably have to play her another round of redneck golf for.
She’d labeled every drawer and cabinet with exactly what he found in them. Except for one little surprise in the cabinet next to the fridge. He opened it up, expecting mixing bowls and small appliances, and came face-to-snout with his armadillo.
Only scared him a little.
