“As long as you’re sure it’s not a bother.”
The gate clanged shut behind them. “Anna Grace, you’re a lot of things, but you’re never a bother.”
Like he’d tell her if she were.
He let them into the house through the screened-in porch. Radish moseyed along next to her. She scratched the dog behind her ears. “How’d Radish get her name?”
He slid his phone and the pie onto the counter and flashed another of those ornery grins. “Aw, now, that ain’t a right proper story for a lady. You go on and make yourself at home. Won’t take but a minute to get cleaned up.”
He disappeared around the corner toward what she assumed to be the bedroom, and she found herself as disappointed as Radish when Jackson wouldn’t let her sniff the pie.
Because she wouldn’t have minded getting cleaned up with him.
If Jackson hadn’t thoughtAnna would’ve gotten derailed putting his bedroom to rights, he would’ve invited her to join him. Instead, he hopped about, tossed off his dirty clothes and then dug for a clean pair of jeans and a shirt in the laundry basket. One of these days, he’d burn some leave to finish putting the house in order. But between all the time he’d beenspending up in Auburn or hunting, and then TDYs and training and getting up to speed at work, sorting out the house hadn’t taken priority. He’d done what he needed to live in it and put the rest off for when he had more time.
Seeing as he had a woman who’d brought him pie here now, getting his bedroom put to rights was fast moving up his list of priorities.
But first, a shower.
He was back out in the kitchen in less than five minutes. Anna wasn’t there. He poked his head around the corner and found her sitting in a pile of books and movies, label maker out beside her, nose buried in a Mae Daniels book.
She caught him watching her and pointed to her label maker. “They’re temporary.”
He flashed her an easy grin. “Think you’re missing your calling, Anna Grace.”
She ignored that and held the book up, and he caught the laughter dancing in her eyes. “One of your favorites?”
Summerswept. He’d liked it the first time around, but it was an older Mae Daniels. She’d gotten better and better since then. He dug into the pile and came up withSouthern Honey. “Try this one.”
The smile on her face slid into an O. “Does Lance know about this?”
“Shoot, Anna Grace, who do you think gave ’em to me?” He snaggedHero Nurseout of the pile too. “Don’t let the title fool you. You can bring it back next time you’re over. Might could learn a thing or two from Bernice in there. You like okra?”
She snapped out of her surprise to give the same kind of nose wrinkle he expected out of someone who hadn’t grown up on the good stuff.
“That’s okay, I got potato chips too,” he said.
She moved to stand.
“Sit,” he said. “You go on and keep having fun.” He snagged the remote off the counter and handed it over. “Don’t reckon you’ll need this, but if you do, hope you like football or huntingshows. I disabled all the girly channels.”
“Of course you did.” She tucked the three books into her purse, and she was smiling when she went back to his mess.
Nice symbiotic relationship they had.
As it turned out, even though Anna insisted an undying love for the unfortunately named Golden Gophers, she was pretty smart about football. She didn’t seem to mind watching the Bama game he’d recorded while he was taking Mamie out to the shooting range. And though he’d been sure it would rankle Anna to eat greasy, cold fried chicken on the couch, she helped herself to a few extra paper towels and dug in beside him.
She even opened up that bottle of ketchup he’d bought after Kaci mentioned Anna thought it was its own food group. Long as he didn’t watch her dipping Momma’s fried chicken in it, he was fine.
She skipped the biscuit, which he couldn’t fault her for, since Miss Dolly’s niece’s cousin’s biscuits were light and flaky as a brick, but she liked her chips well enough to sort them into piles. Broken chips, whole chips, and it took him a minute to puzzle out that the third pile was folded-over chips. Looked like she was saving them for last, so he slid a couple of his own over onto her plate, making sure he accidentally-on-purpose brushed his arm over hers.
She blinked a couple times quick. “Thank you.”
He got a notion it’d been a while since anybody noticed the little things. Probably longer than since her moron of an ex took himself out of her life.
“Leaving more room for pie,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. And then she ate all of her chips—without ketchup, even—and helped herself to a couple more off his plate while they watched the game. Alabama kicked off after their field goal. Anna gestured to the screen with her chips. “Is it hard to tell the difference between the teams?” she asked.
