27

Gabe slipped off his boots, then carried the box to the kitchen. By the time Amy appeared, he had plugged in the Crock-Pot and was chopping scallions on the wooden cutting board he’d brought with him.

She wore dark jeans that skimmed her long legs topped by a royal blue sweater.

“You didn’t have to change.” In fact, he was kind of sorry she had. She looked beautiful, of course. The blue of the sweater deepened the blue of her eyes. But he’d enjoyed seeing what she wore when she wasn’t expecting company. Though she’d be even more appealing in one of his old sweatshirts than the large OSU-emblazoned one she’d been wearing.

“This is supposed to be a lazy, kick-back, stay inside to stay dry kinda day,” he said.

“I can change back if you want me to.”

“How about helping me with the mise en place instead?”

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive.”

“I bet you didn’t think I knew that phrase.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He handed her a block of cheddar cheese and a grater. She eyed it suspiciously. “Good thing you came prepared. All I have is a pot for boiling water. And an egg pan.”

“Hopefully I didn’t forget anything.” He put the scallions in a glass dish, then opened a bag of corn chips, which he poured in another bowl. “I made the chili yesterday so the ingredients have had plenty of time to get acquainted. I hope you’re hungry.”

Her face clouded and he broadened his smile. He didn’t want to nag her like Brett too often did. But it was hard to ignore what she’d told him.

Her one word—food.

He lifted the Crock-Pot lid, speared a piece of the Conecuh sausage on a fork, and held it out to her. “Try this and tell me what you think.”

She daintily placed the meat in her mouth, and her eyes widened as she savored the flavor. “Delicious,” she said.

“Isn’t it? I had to send for it all the way from Alabama.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“When did you do that?”

“The day after we talked about my chili and your lemon meringue pie.” He made a point of looking around the kitchen. “Where is it?”

Her lips stretched into a straight line so she looked apologetic, guilty, and teasing all at the same time. “I meant to pick up the ingredients so I’d have them, but then, well, I didn’t.”

“I see how it is,” he said.

“I doubt that you do.” There was a slight challenge in her voice, but he chose to ignore it. At least for now.

“Then we go to Plan B.” He reached into the box and drew out a brownie mix. “But you have to bake them.”

“My favorite brand.” Amy took the mix from him and opened it. “Is there room for me in that kitchen?”

“I’ll make room,” Gabe said.

With both of them in the tiny space, they couldn’t help but bump into each other. Amy’s sophisticated fragrance mingled with the tantalizing aroma of the chili and the sweet chocolate of the brownie mix. They teased and bantered while he took over grating the cheese and she got the brownies into the oven. Once the kitchen was tidied up, they carried bowls of steaming chili to the living area along with a tray of the toppings.

Amy settled on the couch, and Gabe placed the tray on the coffee table, then sat in a nearby chair. Though he couldn’t explain why he didn’t sit next to her. Maybe he just didn’t want to push his luck.

“I miss my fireplace on days like today,” Amy said as she added scallions to her bowl. “Even though it’s summer, a fire would be nice on a day like this.”

“The rain doesn’t seem to be slacking off any.”

“I guess the farmers around here are thankful for it.”

“I know I am. Otherwise I’d be out on a tractor.” Instead of with you.

“What does AJ have you doing these days?”

“I’m working for Paul Norris now. Jason Owens too.”

“I met their wives at the Misty Willow celebration. They’re both very nice.”

“Good cooks too. One of the perks of the job is all the home-cooking I can put away. Between them and Tess, I’ll turn into a medicine ball with legs if I’m not careful.”

She playfully gave him the once-over, a teasing grin brightening her features. A little of the same light she’d had as a girl and that he’d missed seeing in her as a woman.

“You’re looking fine to me,” she finally said with a hint of suggestiveness.

“Flatter me all you want, little darlin’,” he said. “I’ll never tell you my chili recipe.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to hope for more rainy days.”

“Not too many. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid.”

“How long have you been working for them?”

“A week or so. We’ve been putting in some long hours though.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you lately?”

“That. And I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.” He had another reason too, though it was harder to put into words. Long days on the tractor gave him too much time to think. He was having a hard time understanding what AJ had said about Amy being disappointed that Gabe already had plans for the holiday when she already had a date of her own. But he didn’t think he could talk to her about it. At least not today, when all he wanted was a few hours alone with the woman he adored. Snug in the cottage, he could pretend his troubles didn’t exist. That Logan Cassidy didn’t exist.

“So you dropped by without any warning today?”

“I gave you warning when I said I’d come. Now here I am, along with my chili fixin’s,” he added in an exaggerated drawl. “I knew you wouldn’t turn that away.”

“Guess I owe you a pie.”

“I’ll expect you to keep that promise.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

A comfortable silence followed, the humming sounds of the cottage drowned out by the raging storm outside.

“Now you know what I’ve been doing with my days,” he said. “What have you been doing with yours?”

“This and that. Nothing too exciting.”

“I’ve missed seeing you at the church softball games.”

“I heard you were the hero the other night, hitting a homer with bases loaded in the ninth inning.”

He gave what he hoped was a humble grin. “We won the game. That’s all that matters.”

“Jonah was very impressed. He couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“It’s nice to have a fan.”

“It’s nice for him to have a role model.”

“I’d think he had as many as he needed. Brett, AJ. Jason too, as much time as the families spend together.”

“I’m not sure a young boy can have too many. Especially when . . . well, let’s just say Meghan’s ex-husband certainly wasn’t someone to look up to. We’re all glad he’s no longer a part of Jonah’s life.”

“Any chance he’ll pop back in again?”

“I doubt it. Last I heard, he’d been in another automobile accident. This time he was charged with vehicular homicide. So he’ll be in prison for a very long time.”

Prison. His one word. He couldn’t keep himself from making a face, though he tried not to let his emotion show. She was too perceptive not to have caught it—he could tell by the look in her eyes—but she didn’t say anything.

“You never said why you haven’t been at the games,” he said to change the subject.

The timer on the oven sounded, and Amy gave him a mischievous smile. “Saved by the bell.”

Carrying his chili bowl, Gabe followed her to the kitchen. “Looks like we’ll be rained out tonight. Think you could come next week?”

She tested the brownies for doneness, then set the pan on a rack to cool. “Brett told me you play better when I’m not there.”

Gabe pulled his head back in surprise. “I don’t think . . .”

“You did get that game-winning homer—”

“That was a fluke.”

“Brett said I’m a distraction.” Her smile dared him to contradict. And distracted his thoughts.

“I don’t mind.”

“But the rest of the team does.”

“You have a mighty high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“If I don’t, who will?”

“Me.”

“Only because you don’t know me that well.”

“Maybe it’s time we did something about that.”

A cloud crossed Amy’s face, but she chased it away with one of her dazzling smiles. “I’d rather know more about you.”

“I’m not sure where to start.” The contents of his bowl suddenly needed his attention. “Besides, you’ve probably heard the story by now.”

“No one’s told me anything.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I wouldn’t let them tell me.” She headed back to the couch, then added more cheese to her chili. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

This time Gabe sat beside her and placed his bowl on the coffee table. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“It’s your story. No one else’s.”

“That means something, that you . . .” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. “Thank you for that.”

“What happened, Gabe?”

“My cousin Randy, he’s my dad’s nephew, needed money. He’d been laid off and was having trouble finding work. Then his son broke his arm so there were medical bills. He was a fairly good poker player so he made a bit of money doing that. But then, no surprise, he got involved with the wrong people.”

The nightmare went through Gabe’s mind again, as it had so many times since that day he and Amy painted the cabinet doors. He’d been rehearsing how to tell her what had happened until the 4th of July holiday. After seeing her with Logan, Gabe was no longer sure she wanted to hear it.

“I’m surprised you waited to hear this from me,” he said. “Several people around here already know.”

He had voluntarily shared his story with Jason and Paul. The last thing he wanted was a veil of mystery surrounding him. For people to question his honesty, his ethics. As long as he stayed with Tess, he hoped to be part of this community, and he wanted the families to trust him. Amy was probably the last one to be told the details.

“I told you I only wanted to hear it from you,” she said. “I take it he gambled more than he should have.”

“Yeah.” Gabe sighed heavily. “At first he didn’t want to tell me how bad it was, but I wouldn’t let up. I wanted him to go to the police. Told him I’d go with him. But he said he had a different plan.”

“What happened?”

“We stopped at a convenience store, and he went inside to get a six-pack while I filled the tank. I waited for him but when he didn’t come back, I went in after him.”

Gabe paused, needing a moment to collect his thoughts before he could tell the rest of the story. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with his hands clasped in front of him. It hadn’t been this difficult to tell the others, but he found himself giving more details to Amy than he had to them.

She leaned close to him and tucked her arm through his. Her fragrance, so beguiling and sensuous, pulled him to her while her touch electrified his entire being. He couldn’t live without her, couldn’t breathe without her. Except he had no choice. Any relationship, with her or anybody else, couldn’t be permanent until he found his place in the world.

He took a deep breath, unable to disengage himself from her presence. No man would have had the strength. He put his arms around her, and when she didn’t resist, he held her close. He breathed in her perfume as she nestled within his arms.

Before his stint in prison, he wouldn’t have hesitated to cover her welcoming mouth with his, to kiss the hollow of her gorgeous throat. How easy it would be to stretch out with her on the couch, for their bodies to press against one another in their longing for intimacy. Two lonely people in a secluded cottage in the midst of a raging storm. It was perfect.

Except . . .

He’d have never made it through those long monotonous days of his sentence if God had not been with him. If again and again he hadn’t sensed God’s promise of provision for his future. He believed in that promise. He trusted in it even when he faltered and couldn’t see beyond the next day’s sunrise.

“What did your cousin do?” she asked softly.

“He had a gun.” His voice caught in his throat, and he gave a jagged cough. “He threatened the cashier.”

She didn’t say anything. It was as if she realized his need to tell the story in his own way. In his own time. Her hand rested on his chest, upon his heart, soothing his pain with her touch.

“I tried to stop him. He panicked and the gun went off. The clerk died.” He sucked in another breath.

He felt her stifled gasp, the heave of her sigh. “Oh, Gabe,” she whispered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was. Don’t you see?” This was the hardest part, the part he’d left out when he told the story to the others. The part he could barely face himself but that he needed Amy to understand. “He panicked because of me.”

She pushed against him to look into his eyes. “He made his choice.”

“I should have stopped him.”

“You tried.”

“And someone died. If I had handled things differently, if I’d gone inside the store with him . . .”

“A thousand ifs. But not one of them changes the facts. Your cousin had a gun with him.”

“That doesn’t change the guilt I carry around with me every day.”

“Why did they arrest you?”

“The DA was smarter than my public defender. I was charged as an accessory.”

“What about your cousin?”

“He got life.”

“Do you visit him?”

Gabe’s vision blurred and he worked his jaw.

“I can understand why that would be hard for you.”

“He’s dead, Amy. He died in prison.”

Her eyes rounded with shock. He could almost see the horrific scenes she must be imagining racing through her mind. “Not because of . . . it was natural causes. He died of appendicitis, of all things. A couple of years ago.”

She pressed her palm against his jaw, her touch feather-light and warm. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I’m so very sorry.” She rested her cheek against his and buried her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tight and feeling the give-and-take of grief between them.

And again, the urge to kiss her overwhelmed him.

He shifted so he could stare at her eyes, her lips. He slid his finger along her fine cheekbone and rested his thumb against her jaw.

Her expression told him that her longing matched his, but he refused to give in to the temptation. In his mood, in this place, one kiss would lead to another and another and he—they—wouldn’t be able to stop.

Their second kiss, if it ever happened, wouldn’t stem from sympathy or pity or loneliness but from something as real and genuine as their first.