“Oh, yay. Look at me, such a big contributor.”
Hunter couldn’t help it—he laughed.
And that made her fight a grin. “There.” She set the knife aside and presented the tomato slices with flair.
“Adeptly done. Thank you.” He waited for her to loosen up, to say or do something else outrageous, but she settled back into silence.
It wasn’t until he took his seat that she stated, “I like your dog.”
“He likes you, too. Word of warning, though—don’t feed him.”
Since Turbo sat at attention, obviously hopeful, she asked, “Why not?”
Apparently, the topic of his dog would remain their middle ground. Hunter didn’t have a problem with that. Focusing on the big goof had often helped him, so now he could help Jodi, too. “For one thing, he’ll bug you through the rest of the meal. And for another, it upsets his stomach, which means he’ll have me up all night for bathroom runs.” He cut into his steak. “Let’s eat.”
Jodi surveyed the food. “Man, this all smells good.”
Probably more so to someone who hadn’t eaten all day.
While she dug in, Hunter surreptitiously watched her. She ate politely, but with obvious hunger. What if he hadn’t offered? Would she have gone to bed without food? Seemed likely.
They were both silent as they ate, but this time, it felt companionable instead of strained. Turbo gave up and sprawled out on the deck with a lusty groan.
When her plate was nearly empty, Jodi said, “It’s really nice out here. Peaceful.”
True. It was also quiet and remote. Perfect for sorting through problems. Was that what she intended?
“When I bought my place,” she said, “I never thought about sitting outside to eat. Now I think I’ll add a grill to my list.”
“Does your house have a deck or anything in the back?”
She shook her head. “There’s a little poured patio—and I do mean little. It’s crumbling, so I’ll probably break it up, but I could get a lounge chair or something.”
He could easily envision her swinging a sledgehammer. Pretty sure there wasn’t any type of work that Jodi would shy away from.
“Since it’s only me, I don’t need a whole table and all this seating.” The look she gave him said she didn’t quite understand why he had so much seating either.
Was money an issue for her? Was that why she’d bought such a run-down dump? “This all came as a set,” Hunter explained. “The table, benches and two extra chairs. Plus, I like being at the table to eat, but then the other chairs are nice for just...” Sitting outside, thinking, breathing. “Relaxing.”
She sipped her tea while considering that. “Won’t be quite the same for me.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got a lot of work to do. Not a lot of time for relaxing.” Tipping up her face and closing her eyes, she said, “The sound of the creek is nice, and the breeze in the trees.”
Hunter took in the smooth length of her pale throat. That stubborn chin and cute nose. The naturally dark lashes now resting on her cheeks. To him, she looked too young and, at the moment, far too innocent.
With a smile, she glanced at the coop. “I like hearing the chickens in the background, too. I’ve never heard that before.”
Currently, the birds made quiet clucking sounds as they meandered around their space, pecking at the dirt and scratching. “I wish I could let them be free-range, but there are too many predators around.”
In the smallest way possible, she stiffened—before stabbing her last bite of meat.
Her every reaction hyped up Hunter’s awareness of her; he sensed Jodi knew a little too much about predators.
After a strained pause, she said, “You gave them a great setup. They’ve got a lot of room to roam around, fresh air and plenty of shelter.”
Glad that she’d see it that way, Hunter ate his last bite and nodded. “I wanted them to feel free, even if they aren’t.”
She looked away, saying softly, “Yeah.”
He had to fight the urge to reach out to her. “Jodi?”
“Man, you’re a good cook.” Shaking off her despondent mood, she shared a quick smile. “You said these tomatoes are from your garden? That makes you multitalented, right? Farmer, builder and great with cars.”
In that moment, Hunter decided he was glad she’d moved in near him. Not because he wanted or needed company, but because he figured she did—and there were very few people who would understand her and her quirks.
He was the exception. Maybe fate had put her here for a reason.
“I prefer my own vegetables. For a while, I’d considered canning them for the winter, but that’s a hell of a lot more complicated than you’d think.”
Jodi grinned at that.
“Instead, when I go to the grocery, I pick up a few things here and there and store them in the basement.”
Her gaze shot to his house with apprehensive realization.
Over a basement?
Some might not see the deliberate, guarded stillness in her, but he did. He saw it, felt it. “Does your place have a basement?”
“Nope.” Blowing out a slow breath helped her to appear relaxed again. “It’s on a slab.”
A deliberate choice on her part, he assumed, given her reaction. Awful suspicions cut through his mind, but he knew better than to ask. “Well, if you ever need something, just let me know. I’ll probably have it stored away. In fact...” He pushed back from his empty plate. “Just a second.” Turbo watched him go but didn’t make a move to follow.
In the kitchen, Hunter located a notepad and pen and then rejoined her. “I’ll give you my number.” He scrawled it across the paper, folded it and handed it to her. “Any problems, just give me a call.”
Jodi stared at the note without touching it. “Why would I have a problem?”
She wasn’t that naive. She knew a woman alone, under any circumstances, faced a certain amount of risk. Actually, men did, too. Living out here, so far from town, without anyone else around, meant help wouldn’t be easy or quick. “Leaky roof or truck won’t start or a raccoon gets in your attic. No idea. I’m just saying, it can’t hurt for us to exchange numbers, right?”
She frowned at the note.
Pretending he didn’t see her reserve, he said easily, “Back when I first got Turbo, he was pretty sick. I found him starving in a field. He had a skin condition and he was afraid.”