“Tex is eight years old.” Jackson smiled. “He’s been around since I got here.”
“I’ve been gone more than ten years, so that explains it. He’s beautiful.” She stroked the dog’s blond fur. “He’s part Lab. What’s the rest?”
“Great Pyrenees,” Jackson answered. “Makes for a good watchdog, but the mix also makes for a big old teddy bear. The only time he gives me much trouble is when I take him to the vet. He whines the whole way and looks up at me so pitiful that I hate to make him go in for his shots.”
“My dream job would be to work for a vet,” April said. “I loved working in greenhouses, but to be around animals all day would be even better. We had Waylon back when I was growing up, but Nanny Lucy wouldn’t let me have any other pets. Waylon was here to catch mice, not to be a pet. Dinner should be about ready, so come on in the house.” She bent forward and whispered to Tex, “I’ll bring out scraps for you if you’ll hang around on the porch.”
“You’ve made a friend for life,” Jackson chuckled, and he followed April into the house. His stomach growled when the aroma of fresh-baked bread and cinnamon rushed out to meet him. “Something sure smells good in here.”
“Come on in,” Nessa called out from the kitchen. “I’m putting it on the table right now.”
“Anything I can do to help, and is it all right if I wash my hands in the kitchen sink?” Jackson asked.
“We’ve got it covered.” Flynn carried a basket of hot rolls to the table.
“And yes, feel free to wash up at the sink,” April said. “I’ll get the dog smell off my hands in the bathroom.”
Jackson had washed his hands in the kitchen sink dozens of times over the past years, but today he seemed to be clumsy, bumping into Nessa three times. Once when she passed by him on the way to the table with a bowl of corn in her hands, again when he reached for a towel, and then again when she took a platter of meat, potatoes, and carrots across the tiny galley kitchen to the dining area.
Jackson had had a few dates since he’d moved to Blossom, but nothing had caused the sparks and electricity to fly like they did when he brushed against Nessa O’Riley.
That’s downright crazy, he thought. She’s not my type.
And that is? Miz Lucy asked.
Tall, blonde, and brown eyed. He crossed the room and took a seat at the table. Nessa pulled out a chair on one side and sat down. When her knee touched his under the table, he got another jolt. He could not get involved with Nessa. She was his neighbor, and quite possibly in the next few weeks would be his cohort at craft fairs. If he started something with her and it went south, things would be terribly awkward.
“It’s your turn, April,” Flynn said as he bowed his head.
April’s chin dropped to her chest and she closed her eyes. “Dear God, thank you for this food. Amen.”
“That was short and sweet,” Flynn said.
“It covered what I wanted to thank God for, and we still say grace in this house because Nanny Lucy would throw a hissy fit if we didn’t. I just don’t see any need to thank God for everything from dirt to the bull that gave his life for us to eat today.” April slid the meat platter close to her plate and took a generous helping. “Nanny Lucy thinks we should thank God for it, and I’ll do it, even though it seems kind of crazy to me since Nessa bought and prepared the food. I’ll help with cleanup, but nobody ever thinks to thank God for the dish soap or the hands that wash the dishes. They only thank Him for the food and the good things that happen to them.”
“You’ve got a pretty good point there,” Jackson said. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked God for Tex, and he’s been a loving, faithful companion that’s kept me sane the past couple of years. There’s been weeks when he was the only living thing around this place.”
“We had at least a five-minute prayer before every meal, including all of us reciting the Lord’s Prayer at the end of Daddy’s grace,” Nessa said. “I appreciate a short-and-to-the-point prayer.” She put roast, potatoes, and extra carrots on her plate, then passed the platter on over to Jackson. Their hands touched in the process, and there was that surge of heat again.
“Thank you.” His voice sounded slightly hoarse in his own ears. “This all smells delicious.”
“Nanny Lucy could make biscuits that melted in your mouth, but she never did master yeast rolls.” Nessa wondered how words went from her brain to her mouth with all the chemistry between her and Jackson dancing around the room. She hoped that April and Flynn were so focused on dinner that they couldn’t see it, or they would tease her later.
Jackson was going to be kind of like a partner in her craft business, and she could not mess that up. She would not fantasize about seeing him without that shirt on at the falls. She couldn’t start something up with him. That was as far as she got with her vows, because she did visualize him without a shirt on—his broad chest muscles under her hands, the soft black hair that had to be on his chest tickling her fingertips.
“Nessa!” April’s tone brought her back to the present.
“What?” She came near to jumping out of her skin. The adrenaline from the shock of April’s voice sent her heart to pumping double time.
“You were staring off into space like you were high,” April said. “Flynn asked you to pass the butter.”
“I’m not high.” Nessa’s face suddenly felt hot. “I was trying to remember exactly what time the apple pie comes out of the oven.” Yes, it was a lie, but she had forgotten to set the timer.
“In ten minutes,” Flynn replied. “Apple pie is one of my favorites, so I won’t let you burn it.”
“Thanks.” Nessa sent the butter dish around the table to Flynn. “So, Jackson, what have you been working on this week?”
“Three more hope chests,” he answered between bites. “I could use some part-time help, but . . .” He shrugged and went back to eating.
“What’s the problem?” Nessa asked.
“I bet getting people to come out here to the sticks for just part-time work would be tough, right?” Flynn asked.
“Yep.” Jackson nodded.
“I’ll take the job,” Flynn said. “I don’t know a lot about building anything, but I can fetch, and I can learn. I’ve been wondering what I’m going to do now that the house is painted and rewired. I can be over there right after dinner tomorrow and work until five or six, whatever time you quit.”
“Are you serious?” Jackson asked.
Nessa crossed her fingers under the table. That would get Flynn out of the house half the day. It didn’t take a psychoanalyst to see that he was going to get bored if he didn’t have something to do. And if he was bored, he might slip back into his old ways. She remembered that he’d always been a little hyper, even as a kid. While she was content to read a book or sit and watch Nanny Lucy cut out fabric for quilts, he was always running here, there, and yonder. She’d never given a thought to the fact that he had to live in a walk-up apartment when he went home, or that he spent a lot of days alone while his mother worked. Then when his mama died, he had to live with his father, and that couldn’t have been pleasant. No wonder he’d felt free as a bird let loose from a cage when he came to Blossom.