Paige glanced at her daily planner and sighed. She’d blocked out Ava’s nap time to work on the dinner-theater script, but had no idea how to get started. And her long list of ideas weren’t helping. Maybe Jed had given her too much leeway.
He was supposed to drop material off yesterday, but said he’d gotten hung up at his mom’s. Did that indicate a lack of follow-through? If so, working for him would be rough.
Rougher.
She hated wasting time and writing under unrealistically tight deadlines. That only made failure more inevitable. She glanced through the window, at the cloud cover blanketing the skyline, suggesting dramatically cooler temperatures. Maybe she should shift her run, which she’d planned to go on this evening, to earlier. She grabbed her eraser and made the changes, scheduling in script writing for after supper.
So long as Jed showed up. It was almost ironic, considering how much time she’d spent trying to avoid him, that now she was anxious for him to arrive.
Only for the script samples.
And maybe if she told herself that enough times, her rebellious heart would believe it.
She thought back to their conversation the day they drove to New Life Furnishings. Thought back to their senior year in high school, when Jed had joined the football team and started hanging out with the jocks and pom-poms crowd. He’d said he hadn’t left her for Christy, but they had dated...eventually. The question was when did they officially get together? Had Paige pushed Jed in that direction with her accusations?
What might have happened if she’d listened to him that day, when he’d tried to talk to her, to deny the rumors and profess his love? What if she had believed him?
She never would’ve met her ex-husband. Wouldn’t be divorced now.
Nor would she have had precious little Ava.
Something one of her old Sunday-school teachers used to say swept through her mind. God can bring out good, even in the hard.
Her phone pinged an incoming email. It was from her uncle. She opened it, skimmed it and laughed. In response to her writer’s block comment, shared in a message she sent him this morning, he’d listed at least fifty random, nonsensical ideas. Murder over Maggie’s magnificent magnolias. A sweet tooth savagely seeks out cookies. Mayhem at the Texas State Fair’s cake baking competition—because chocolate can be deadly.
“All perfect,” she replied.
Mom was in her bedroom, napping off a headache. Paige sent her a text to keep an ear out for Ava, changed into her running gear and then left.
The air was muggier than she’d anticipated, and soon sweat trickled down her temples and between her shoulder blades. Even so, it felt good to stretch her legs and give her mind time to decompress. The writers’ conference was approaching quickly, and she was beginning to have doubts about going. Should she trust Ava with Mom for two overnights? She’d been attentive and engaged, but quick to retreat.
Maybe Mrs. Tappen could help keep an eye out?
The bigger question—what made Paige think she’d land another writing job, one that paid enough to cover the expense of living in the city? Besides, there’d be hundreds, probably thousands, of other writers at the conference, all vying for positions.
What if Paige hadn’t been let go simply because of budget cuts? What if she’d stunk at her job? Her stomach knotted.
So she’d start at the bottom, doing grunt work, fact-checking, whatever she could find to get her foot in the door somewhere.
But was it worth it? Leaving Sage Creek, Mom, Mira, Mrs. Tappen...
Jed.
Was Jed worth staying for?
Pounding out her confusion and uncertainty with every step, she zigzagged her way to the jogging trail marking the circumference of Mirror Lake.
Four laps in, the wind picked up, and the sky darkened as thick rain clouds swept in. It looked as though she were about to get—
A fat raindrop plopped onto her forehead. Wet.
Another followed, and then another. Lightning flashed, unleashing a torrent that soon sent goose pimples up her arm. By the time she made it home, she was drenched. Her hair and clothes clung to her, and mud splattered her calves and shins.
She opened the front door and poked her head inside. “Mom, can you bring me a towel?” she called out.
Nothing.
“Mom?” She stomped her feet and stepped inside.
She shivered and headed toward Mom’s bedroom. “You awake?”
She sighed and started to turn toward the hall bathroom when the guest bedroom’s door creaked open.
“What’s gotten...” Mom’s eyes widened, and then a grin formed on her face. “Girl, you’re a mess. What’d you do, fall into a crick?”
“It’s raining. Ava still asleep?”
“Like a rock.” Mom closed the bedroom door softly behind her. “Wait there and I’ll grab you a towel.”
The doorbell rang, and Paige stiffened. Jed? Of all of the times for him to finally show up...
Mom stopped midway to the bathroom. “You going to get that?” Before she could answer, Mom returned, reached around her and opened the door. “Jed, hello. Come in.”
“Mrs. Cordell. Paige.” With a tip of his Stetson, he offered a soft smile, and the tenderness in his eyes captivated her.
She pushed her soggy hair out of her face. “Hi.”
He set an umbrella near the door and then stepped inside. His gaze swept the length of her with a hint of a smile on his lips. “Looks like you got yourself caught in the storm.” He held papers wrapped inside a plastic grocery bag.
“Something like that.” She swiped at the mascara streaks she knew shadowed her eyes. “Give me a minute?”
“Of course.”
As she dashed into the bathroom for a towel, Mom ushered Jed into the living room with an offer of biscuits and sweet tea.
Paige gripped the sink and stared at her blotchy reflection in the mirror. Jed always seemed to show up at the most inopportune times. First after her grueling two-day drive from Chicago. Then when she’d rushed outside the following Saturday, in her pajamas. Her dumpster-diving endeavor. Now this.
He probably thought she was a scattered, soggy mess.
Except, the way he looked at her, whether put together or with unkempt, frizzy hair, said differently. Suggested he loved her.
Dare she believe that? And even if it were true, was he prepared for what that meant?
Was he ready to be a dad, to hold tightly not just to her, but to Ava, as well?
She yanked a towel off the rack, squeezed it around her hair and rubbed the smudges beneath her eyes. She turned on the faucet and gave her face a good wash, causing her sensitive skin to flare bright red. Lovely.
She hurried to her room to exchange her wet clothing for jeans and a T-shirt. Ava lay curled on her side, sucking her thumb. After a night of fussing, a long nap would do her good.
Paige softly kissed her cheek. “My precious girl.” She’d do anything in her power to ensure her daughter always looked so happy and content. To keep her free from pain.
Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she sucked in a deep breath, and joined Mom and Jed in the living room.
He placed his mug on the end table and stood. “Sorry I didn’t make it over earlier. It’s been one of those days.”
“No problem.”
Mom pushed to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I better...” She glanced at her computer, then about the room. “I have things to attend to.” She shot Paige a wink before shuffling off to her bedroom.
Subtle, Mom. What was this, high school? Sometimes, like now, it felt like it. She turned to Jed with what she hoped was a professional smile, ignoring the tingle that swept through her when his deep chocolate eyes snagged hers. After all of these years, he could still initiate an intense reaction within her.
Did he feel the same?
Did she want him to?
“These the old scripts?” She motioned toward a stack of papers on the coffee table.
He nodded and handed them over. “I brought the one we’re using now, though I have to warn you, it’s pretty bad.” He offered a sheepish smile. “There’s also seven or so we’ve used in the past, which aren’t that much better. Some of these are pretty old. Found them in a filing cabinet in my office when I came on board.”
She sat, and he did the same with his leg brushing against hers and sending a rush of warmth through her. Clearing her throat, she inched aside to add distance between them and grabbed the first drama on his pile. It was covered in red where someone had crossed things off, circled parts and jotted notes in the margin.
“That’s what we’re using now.” He leaned closer to read over her shoulder. His breath smelled like peppermint. “It called for too many cast members.”
“I see.” She turned the page, noting clues highlighted in yellow. “How many clues do you normally have per script?”
“A dozen, give or take—some intentionally false.”
“Red herrings?”
His forehead creased. “What?”
“Mystery-writing lingo.”
He grinned. “I figured you’d know your stuff.”
“A little. Does your cast always have three males and four females?”
“Thereabouts. More than that, and things get jumbled. ’Course, if you think you can write something with a crew of six or less, even better. We’ve got to cut costs where we can.” His crooked smile stalled her breath.
Triggering emotions she’d thought she’d long abandoned. Emotions that had the potential to change everything, if she let them.
Jed deposited five grocery bags on his grandmother’s kitchen table.
“Boy, what have I let you talk me into?” Mirth filled her eyes. “How much cooking were you thinking we’d do?”
“We need at least five signature dishes with one unique enough to get some press. Maybe a soup and appetizer, too.”
“By unique you don’t mean something nasty like deep-fried cow hearts, I hope.”
“Hmm...hadn’t thought of that one, but it’d be unexpected, for sure.”
“And uneaten.”
He laughed and pulled some old cookbooks he’d purchased at the used bookstore from one of his bags. “I did find a recipe for pickled cowboy candy, though.” He flipped to the dog-eared page. “I’d want to tweak it some.”
“Like how? Dip the jalapenos in chocolate?”
“Not hardly.” He started unloading groceries onto the counter. “Though that might be better than chocolate-covered crickets.”
She flipped through marked recipes and suggested palatable changes, while Jed took notes. By early afternoon, they’d come up with four possible main dishes and a dessert he titled Rancher’s Bark. Its dark chocolate base was embedded with toffee chunks, chopped macadamia nuts and bits of bacon, all topped with caramel drizzles.
Jed decided to tackle cleanup—so he could lick the bowl. He ran the spatula along the chocolate-covered porcelain, careful to pick up as many bacon bits as possible, and then savored its salty sweetness.
“Don’t know where you put all that.” Grandma surveyed their creations, lined in plastic storage containers on nearly every available surface space. “Hope you’ll take most of this home with you.”
He placed a hand over his over-full stomach and groaned. “I’ve had enough to last me a week.” He’d tried each dish, eating more of some than others.
“You know—” she grabbed a paper bag from the pantry “—I wonder if our sweet neighbors would enjoy trying our concoctions.”
A jolt ran through him, initiating a grin before he could halt it. He quickly covered with a cough. “Sure. I could bring a dish or two over to their house.”
Grandma’s lips twitched toward a smile. “Paige sure has turned mighty pretty.”
He stepped toward the counter before Grandma could see the blush taking over his face. “She’s all right.” Beautiful, feisty and stubborn with enough brilliance and creativity to salvage their dying business.
And steal his heart, if he let her.
He would, too, if he thought that was what she wanted.
“Might as well take a few dishes over now.” He grabbed the Texas Hash made with quail and shredded sweet potatoes.
“You do that.” Her teasing tone made him bristle.
If only Paige wasn’t dead set on returning to Chicago.
He paused at Grandma’s door to slip on his Stetson and cowboy boots, and then he made his way over to Mrs. Cordell’s. Funny how his insides felt all jittery, kind of like that first day, many years ago, when he’d asked her out.
If he had it to do over...
He rotated his shoulders, stretched his neck from side to side and reached for the doorbell.
Mrs. Cordell answered before he got a chance to ring. She smelled like a mixture of lavender and something spicy he couldn’t place. “Jed, hello. Please come in.”
He obliged and glanced about. “Is Paige here?” He clamped his mouth shut, wishing he’d given his brain half a second to catch up with his tongue. “What I mean is...” He thrust his container of food at her. “I brought this over. I’ll probably add it to our menu and figured she—and you—might want a preview taste.”
She took the hash with the same knowing expression Grandma had given him. “How thoughtful. If you don’t mind waiting... She’s trying to get Ava down to sleep. The munchkin’s been fighting her, the little crab apple. Most likely letting her know just how displeased she was at having her mama gone most of the day.”
“Oh?”
“She went to a job fair or some such thing.”
So Paige was still job hunting. For something in Sage Creek? Did that mean she planned to stay?
His heart surged at the thought.
Man, was he in trouble.