She threw a hand his direction and sat down with a huff. “I don’t want to see your face again.”
He nodded once and took his leave. The rest of the office was the same as it had been when he’d walked through the first time, except he felt like he was on shaky ground. Who was Miss Carol friends with? Would she blackball him? Make things as difficult as Murdock had?
Maybe that was Murdock’s plan all along. Why do the dirty work when you can poke a bear to do it for you?
He waved at Jackson, who was on the phone, on his way out.
Dang it! All he wanted to do was finish his house, move in with Maggie, and have quiet nights at home. She had a way of filling the space with this sense of belonging, and anyone could get in on it. Even him. And he’d never felt at home anywhere.
As he drove out to the Hansens’ place, he worried that he hadn’t solved a problem, but stirred up a hornets’ nest.
Chapter 17
With Cash working late every night to get the new dining room finished for the Hansens—a delightful couple who had three children and one on the way—Maggie found that she was lonely at night. Going from a kitchen with construction workers constantly streaming through, asking her questions about what she was making andwhat’s that smell? to only having the chatter of squirrels to keep her company was hard.
So she’d reached out to Jennifer and invited her to dinner.
Cash’s couch-bed was shoved back into the upright position, and she’d pulled out the small table that rested on a metal pole that fit into a hole in the floor. His soapy smell was all over the sheets, and she had a strong urge to hunt him down and kiss him.
Despite their rather amorous kisses in the truck a couple days ago, they hadn’t expressed the desire that hummed between them constantly. There were a few chaste kisses goodbye and some hugs—lots of light touches on her lower back—but no good kissing. Her need for his lips was a pot ready to boil over. If he didn’t take the lid off soon, she might explode.
“Knock, knock,” Jennifer called from outside.
Maggie hurried to swing open the door and invite her in. “What’s this?”
Jennifer handed up a paper grocery sack before climbing into the trailer. “We had a guest on today who wants to open a new soda fountain in town, and he gave me all these supplies to make Italian sodas and such.” She wagged a hand back and forth. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I thought you might enjoy mixing up some fancy do-da drinks.”
Maggie grinned. “Thanks. Oh, lemon. Pineapple. Lime. And Diet Coke. I can make magic with this.”
“That’s what I was counting on. What can I do to help?”
“Have a seat. I got this covered.” Maggie motioned to the couch that also served as chairs for the table.
“This is cozy.” Jennifer wiggled a shoulder. “I’ll bet you two are loving this.”
Maggie had explained the situation with the mold, leaving out the corrupt politician who was harassing them and such. Jennifer took it in stride. It wasn’t like mold wasn’t an issue in their Southern state.
Maggie laughed. “The crazy thing is, I hardly see him.” She opened the miniature oven—it would have been cute if she didn’t have so much cooking to do. Who knew the Easy Bake company had a trailer division? Her smallest casserole pan barely fit. The smell of warm marinara sauce, sausage, and melted cheese filled the air.
“Mmm. What’d you make?” Jennifer leaned forward, her arms resting on the table.
Maggie dropped a hot pad on the counter and then put the dish on top. “This was my great-grandma’s go-to recipe for a quick meal—that took her two hours to make.”
“What?” Jennifer laughed.
“I cut it down to ten minutes of prep with thirty minutes of cook time.” She mentally patted herself on the back before reaching above Jennifer to retrieve some plates. A pre-made salad and store-bought Italian bread joined the main dish on the counter. “I think of the time that woman spent feeding her family, and I half cringe and half burn with jealousy.” She began plating food.
“Explain,” Jennifer said good-naturedly.
“Well.” Maggie put the plates on the table and started on the drinks. “Her time was spent doing something she loved. Many of her recipes are originals—I can’t find them on the web. And she took so much pride in what she did. I mean, I do it because I want to have a pretty picture for my blog, but she did to make her family feel loved. There’s something to that, right?”
“Food is totally a love language,” Jennifer agreed. She took the cup Maggie offered and set it next to her plate.
Maggie joined her at the table, handing her a fork. “I told you it would be casual.”
Jennifer smiled. “Do you mind if we say grace?”
“Not at all.” They bowed their heads, and Maggie offered a blessing over the food. At the last second, she added her gratitude that she’d made a friend in Jennifer.
