He showed me where the serving dishes were and explained that the cowboys ate outside at the picnic table. His eyes were turned away and his restless hands made me realize I was picking my nails again.
After he went out to set the table, Tag sauntered in from the porch. His curls were wild, free of his cowboy hat, and his eyes were barely open yet. “Good mornin’, Hollie.” He offered me a kind, albeit shy, smile then made his way around the counter, for what Ithoughtmust be a hug.
“Hi.” I stepped toward him, lifting my arm.
Tag faltered for a half second before stopping abruptly. “Oh. Hi.”
What followed was the most awkward, terrible side hug I’d ever given or received in my entire life. His left arm lifted, wrapping around my shoulders with surprisingly little contact, and his fingers tapped the edge of my shoulder like I was a stick of dynamite he was being forced to touch. After which, he pedaled away as if I would, in fact, explode.
Then he turned to the electric water kettle directly behind me and switched it on.
He didn’t want a hug.
He wantedhot water.
My face boiled along with the kettle as it roared to life behind me, the hum lifting and growing as Tag fished in a cabinet for a mug and dropped a tea bag inside it.
Come on, Hollie.
I blinked, positive that the excess mortification would put me in an early grave. I forced words out of my tight throat. “Good to see you again.”
“You too.”
Yeah, right.
I tried to smile. “How’s Bea this morning?”
“Not good. She was up all last night.”
“Throwing up?”
“Yeah, she doesn’t get sick at night most of the time, but she couldn’t stop for some reason. I doubt she’ll be up any time soon.”
I glanced at his face, wondering if he was the kind of husband who would sit with her by the toilet or ask her to quiet down. The circles under his eyes and concern in his brows made me bet the former, which was good because I wouldn’t wish the latter on my worst enemy.
He continued, “Thank you for bein’ here, Hollie. You have no idea how much it lifted Bea’s spirits to have family come in.”
“I’m glad I could.”
A touch of scrutiny lined his gaze as his eyes swept over me. His irises were grey with one spot of hazel in his left eye. I’d always found them hauntingly beautiful.
“Bea told me you knew your way ‘round a kitchen, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me or Jesse know.”
“I will. And same for you. I’m here to help.”
He smiled, the movement bringing a sparkle to his tired eyes. “Thank you.”
Once he exited to the porch, I poured the eggs into the pan, forcing myself to take a big deep breath. At 5:26 a.m. the eggs were finished, the cornbread warmed. I toted it all to the porch, avoiding anyone’s eyes and barely lifting my head when the cowboys said hello or thanked me. I just wanted to get it done and get out of the way.
But by the time I’d cleaned the kitchen, Jesse came back in, a storm brewing in his gaze. Without acknowledging me at all, he snapped open the blue card box, and said, “Time to start the guest breakfast.”
SEVENTEEN
Jesse
Finishing the riding schedule for the day, I led Lady May to the westward side of the barn and cranked on the hose pipe. She sighed as I ran the cool water over her sweaty coat. Our sweet Lady May was getting older, the workouts tougher. And it was ninety-one blessed degrees. No one—no horse—in their right mind would want to work out in this sweltering heat.
I’d made it all the way to Tuesday afternoon without talking to Hollie more than what kitchen duties required. I promised Tag I wouldn’t go near her, and I’d keep my word no matter how hard it proved. It was the least I could do. But the longer I stewed over our indiscretion, the less angry I was.
