“That looks and smells incredible. Thanks.”
He took a bite, and his eyes widened. “Wow. I haven’t had peach pie in years. It’s so good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She really shouldn’t sit down. She could feel the fatigue washing over her, and she might not get up and moving again if she rested too long. There was still so much to do. The kitchen looked as though a bag of flour had exploded. “What have you been up to?”
“Job hunting,” he said between bites. “It’s not as much fun as it sounds.”
“I remember all too well.”
“Can I ask… is there some kind of reason you’ve decided to bake every single peach in Georgia today?”
“I have peach trees,” she said by way of explanation and waved an arm toward the back windows that looked out over the yard. “I’m drowning in peaches and not sure what to do with them all. I’ve sold as many as I could, and eaten more than I should, and now I’m baking the rest of them to give to people or store in my freezer. I’ve also been canning, jamming, and anything else I can think of with Teja. We’ve got peaches coming out of our ears.”
He laughed. “Well, they’re delicious. You should consider a career change.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll stick with the classroom. I’m exhausted and feel like I’m going to explode, I’ve eaten so many.”
“Mmm… well, there are worse ways to die than by peach.” He grinned.
“I hope you don’t mind if I clean up. I’m about to lose the will to do anything. My feet hurt, my back aches, and if I sit much longer, I’ll talk myself into leaving it for tomorrow.”
“I’ll help,” he said as he scraped up the last of his pie and jumped to his feet.
“No, really. You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, that way you’ll have no excuse when I ask you out.”
She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. It was hard to know what to say to that. “Oh.” She’d had a feeling he might want more than friendship when she’d heard him through the front door. But still, she hadn’t been asked out so boldly and confidently in… well, ever. It made her knees a little weak.
He started stacking dirty bowls and mixing spoons in the sink and rinsing them. “I thought we could have dinner.”
“That sounds nice,” she replied, immediately forgetting that she was full of peaches.
They washed dishes and wiped down counters while talking about anything and everything. Jessica was amazed at how easily the conversation flowed. He was kind and thoughtful. He didn’t shy away from any topic she raised and was happy to listen to her ideas. Before long, they were laughing over silly stories from their respective childhoods, and she felt as though they’d never run out of things to say to each other.
He reached for a bowl as she leaned to rinse a dishcloth, and somehow they ended up with him pressed against her, with her back to the sink.
“Uh, sorry,” he said.
“Excuse me,” she added with an apologetic smile.
But neither of them moved away. He raised a hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch made her skin quiver. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her face. Then his hand dropped until his fingertips brushed against her cheek.
He wiped gently. “You have a little flour here… and here… and here.” As he spoke, he touched her forehead, then kissed the tip of her nose.
She laughed softly. “Apparently I got it everywhere but the bowl.”
His head dropped, his eyes fixed on hers. Her breathing grew shallow, quickening. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She chewed on her lower lip, and his gaze fell to watch. Then his hands cupped her cheeks, and he let his lips graze over hers so softly that she almost didn’t feel it. His eyes crinkled around the edges but never let go of hers, and then his lips pressed to hers firmly. She was afraid her legs might give way, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. Her eyes drifted shut, and she melted into his kiss.
Chapter Fourteen
The chicken pot pie on Rita’s plate was steaming hot. The pastry flaked perfectly on top of the creamy sauce filled with chunky vegetables and delectable pieces of chicken. The side was a garden salad.
“This looks great,” Rita said.
“I think so too. Would you like me to add it to the menu?” Cathy had a clipboard on the table in front of her, a pen poised above it. She’d lost a little weight, and her usual fluorescent outfit wasn’t straining as hard across her hips as it had in the past. She wore a matching headband and looked as though she’d stepped directly out of an eighties workout video, but with a black apron tied over the top.
Rita took a bite of the pie, and the flavour burst across her tongue. She gave a nod. “Yes, please. Customers will love this. Especially as we head into the cooler months.”
