The aroma of bread wafting out of the house made Miles stop and inhale several times on his way across the lawn. He held the white wine in one hand and set the red wine down on the wooden porch and was about to knock on the door when it swung open.
Lula Ann took his breath away, and for a full thirty seconds he could do nothing but stare. Her curly red hair was twisted up on top of her head, but a few strands had fallen and framed her delicate face. A button-down shirt with the collar turned up hung to the hem of a pair of cut-off denim shorts, and she was barefoot.
“You are a little early. I’ve been cooking all afternoon and haven’t had time to get all dressed up for you,” she said, and bent down to get the wine on the porch. “You brought two kinds. That’s wonderful. We can have the red with supper, and the white with dessert. I’ll put this six-pack of beer in the fridge for you.”
“Thank you,” Miles said. “Is that bread I smell?”
“Yes, it is. I just took the hot rolls out of the oven, and we’ll have cinnamon rolls for dessert with a little ice cream on the side to cut the sweet,” she answered and led the way into the kitchen.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Not a thing. Just sit down, and I’ll put it on the table,” she answered.
“All right if I wash up in the kitchen sink?”
“Sure thing. By the time you get your hands dried, we’ll be ready to eat.”
“I could get used to this kind of life,” Miles said as he rolled up the sleeves of his pearl snap shirt.
“Beer or wine?” she asked.
“I’ll have wine with you tonight,” he answered.
The table setting reminded him of his grandmother’s house, which wasn’t a lot bigger than the one Lula Ann lived in. She had set the table with mismatched dishes, used jelly glasses for the sweet tea, water, and wine, and took the roast straight to the table in a cast-iron Dutch oven.
A paper towel lined the basket for the steaming-hot bread. She used a crock bowl for the green beans, and the potatoes were piled high in one that had yellow flowers on the sides.
“This all looks amazing, and smells even better,” Miles said. “Do you say grace?”
“Why don’t you do it for us?” she suggested.
He reached over and laid his hand over hers and said a short blessing. If only he hadn’t been so stupid as to put his name down as Bubba on the speed-dating app, things might have been different between them. Now, if he told her his real name and owned up to who he really was, she would most likely never trust him again.
When he finished the prayer, he removed his hand and reached for a hot roll. “I haven’t had rolls like these since my grandmother passed away.”
“You said that you could get used to this,” she said. “Why haven’t you?”
He hadn’t had a really serious thought about settling down just yet. Sure, he was buying a ranch and had figured that sometime in the future he might be ready for a long-term commitment, but there was plenty of time for that—later down the road.
“Well?” she asked.
“The time hasn’t been right, and like I said before, I haven’t met the right woman,” he answered.
“That doesn’t leave much room for comfort-food suppers,” Lula Ann told him.
“No, but this meal reminds me of sitting down with my grandparents for supper. They were married more than fifty years when Grandpa died. Granny passed away a week later, and my mama swore it was from a broken heart. That’s the kind of relationship I want—when I decide to settle down.”
Lula Ann handed him the carving knife and motioned toward the iron skillet. “And when do you figure you’ll be ready to stop your playboy days?”
“Maybe when I’m forty,” he answered, and laid a slice of roast on her plate before helping himself. “How about you?”
She passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes after she had taken out a portion for herself. “Hadn’t given it much thought. I figure it’ll happen when the time is right. Right now I’m too busy to think about settling down and starting a family.”
“One day at a time?”
“Sweet Jesus.” She finished the line of the old gospel song.
Miles chuckled. “You got it, darlin’.”
