Chapter Ten #2
Inside, she shuffled through the drawers, looking for the knives that she was certain had been next to the sink last time she was here, but she couldn’t find them. When she straightened, Jackson was watching her from behind the small counter between the kitchen and the living room.
Her heart gave a big thud, but she wasn’t sure if it was surprise or excitement. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her in his kitchen.
But they’d traded plenty of notes through Kaci. His momma must’ve kept him well-stocked with that paper.
Today he wore a different pair of board shorts but the same faded Alabama T-shirt and the same big, crinkly eyed smile. His hair was shorn so tight she wouldn’t have suspected curls, and his face was clean-shaven. “Hey, there, Anna Grace.”
Something fluttered in her chest at the way her name rolled off his tongue. Something suspiciously similar to a pheromone-induced adrenaline rush. “Do you have to call me that?” she asked, though it was impossible not to smile back.
“Well, now, it’s pretty, and it fits you, so I reckon I do.” He settled on a barstool on the other side of the counter, propping up his tan forearms. He grabbed a peach and shifted it between his hands. “Brought some extra peaches so you can make one of those just for me after our rematch tonight.”
Another frisson of awareness prickled her wet skin.
She bent over and, out of desperation, peeked in the dishwasher to hide her reaction.
Bingo. There were the knives. She plucked a paring knife out of the silverware section, then gave one of the peaches a sniff.
Peach season was winding down, but these smelled sweet and yummy.
He looked yummy. In an I’m only in it for the lust kind of way.
Maybe Kaci was onto something with that expiration-date thing. “Nobody told me you were coming, so I only brought one crust,” she said, and she gave him a wink Kaci would’ve been proud of. Her cheeks warmed, but she didn’t care.
Because he’d leaned closer. His gaze dropped to her mouth.
And she had a suspicion he wasn’t as dumb as he wanted her to believe.
“No problem,” he said. “Kaci probably has flour and bacon grease somewhere in here.”
She almost dropped the peach. “Bacon grease? In pie crust?”
“Ain’t that how your momma taught you to make it?”
“My momma taught me to make pie taste like pie and pig taste like pig.”
“Then what do you do with your bacon grease?”
In the middle of her shudder, she caught the look. The I’m playing games with the uptight Yankee look.
She’d be damned.
She’d been rednecked.
This one was a lot smarter than he let on.
She jutted her chin until her nose was high enough for her to stare him down. “I donate it to our annual Hicks Without Hogs drive at work.”
“Right decent of you.” But if that ornery spark was any indication, his coughing fit had nothing to do with the pollen count.
She took the paring knife to the first peach. The skin slid off in even, curving strips. “Somebody has to give us Northern folk a good name.”
He rolled a peach out of the neat line she had arranged them in. “Baking pies like that, all you need to do is loosen your tongue up a little, and nobody’s gonna notice the Northern part. You make biscuits too?”
She snatched his peach away and put it back in place, but only to distract herself from thinking about him thinking about her tongue. “Three-point question.” She sliced her peeled fruit and dropped the slices into the bowl, then grabbed another.
“How about a trade instead?”
And there was that tart strawberry flavor sitting on the back of her tongue again. “What kind of trade?”
He shifted her last three peaches, putting the smallest in the middle. “You tell me all about your biscuits, and I’ll tell you where I went while you were putting my kitchen together.”
The way he asked about her biscuits inspired thoughts that had nothing to do with baking. “Oh, I think I’m going to need something better than that.”
“Huh.” He scratched his chin. “What’re you doing tomorrow night?”
That sparked a big old ka-thump! in her chest. Her hand wobbled. The peach skin slid off with a jagged edge. “Studying.”
“Thought finals were over.”
“Need a certification at work.”
“Gotta eat though.”
She started to tell him about her Sunday baking system that allowed her to eat labeled leftovers the rest of the week, then realized he was grinning at her like he already knew.
She’d underestimated him.
And she didn’t like that she couldn’t decide if she liked smart Jackson or dumb Jackson better. She knew one thing for sure. She liked smart Anna, and smart Anna took care of herself first.
While she was deciding if she could take care of herself and let him in a little further, she conjured up a Southern smile of her own.
“That’s so sweet of you to worry about little old me.
But I’m in a real busy spot at work right now, and I need to keep my focus so I can keep eating.
I’m sure you understand, being such a busy, important man yourself.
” If he was worth her time, he’d fight for it.
Instead, he coughed into his hand again, his eyes going all crinkly, and then he had to turn away and cough again.
She sighed in her peaches. She couldn’t even politely stall for time without getting laughed at.
He eventually recovered, though his straight face seemed to be a struggle. “Reckon I should feel special you’re taking the time today to make me a pie.”
And suddenly she didn’t care if he was laughing at her, because he probably had issues of his own if he had to hide who he was behind that goofy redneck act. And if he could spend the time flirting with her, then she could be nice back.
“Well.” She grabbed another peach and took her knife to it. “I don’t make pies for just anybody.”
When he didn’t answer right away, she cut a sideways glance at him. His smile softened. “Careful there,” he said. “Next step’s letting me buy you some ice cream.”
He was watching her as if she were a puzzle he’d like to unravel, and the interest in his eyes was enough to make her want to be unraveled.
Her knife slipped, and the sharp tip stung her thumb.
She shifted over to the sink and flipped on the cold water to rinse off the peach juice, then grabbed a paper towel.
Jackson came around the counter. “Okay there, Anna Grace?”
“Fine. Really. It’s a little nick. I do this all the time.”
He set one hand at the small of her back and cradled her injured hand with the other. She caught a whiff of Old Spice. Something tingled low in her belly.
“Might could be you’re working too hard.”
She’d never believed in kissing boo-boos. A mini-panic attack seized her chest, but his touch dulled the throbbing in her thumb. When she tried to brush off his concern, she instead leaned closer to his warm, solid body. “Baking isn’t work.”
His rumbly chuckle sent delicious shivers over her skin. “It’s putting all those peaches and sugar where they’re supposed to be, hm?”
“Exactly.” She pulled the paper towel away from her thumb and inspected the injury. Very little bleeding, barely a tiny nick. The bigger injury would come from the electric shock when she broke contact with him before grounding herself.
Jackson brushed his thumb over the wound. “Looks like you’re gonna make it.”
“It’s no big deal.” She forced herself to look up at him. “I’ve got a Band-Aid in my purse.”
His eyes were warm and smoky over his crooked grin. “’Course you do.” He pressed a soft kiss to her thumb. “How about I go get that for you?”
Some padding for her self-preservation would be more effective. Lust, she reminded herself. She was good with lust. Six and a half years of practice at it.
She slid her hand out of his grasp. “I can get it.”
“As the lady wishes.” He picked up her knife and the peach. “You got some particular way you been peeling and cutting these here?”
Anna snatched the peach back. “I’ll just be a minute. The peaches can wait.”
“You sure do know how to make a guy feel useless, Anna Grace.”
“I—you—you’re not useless.”
“I dunno. You don’t need help with your ants. Don’t need help with your peaches. Probably wouldn’t let me hold a door for you if it was raining a hurricane and you had your hands full. Don’t matter what it is, you don’t ever take help, do you?”
“Like the help you offered in your own kitchen?”
She gave herself a mental pinch. Her prissy side was coming through again.
But his slow grin told her she’d walked into that.
“Aw, now, that’s different. You lost fair and square on that one.” He leaned into the counter. “Besides, I reckon that pie you took was good payment for a job well done.”
“I baked that pie.”
“And I’m right looking forward to this one. So you gonna let me help with your peaches or not?”
She brushed an errant strand of drying hair out of her eyes. “You have to earn helping with my peaches.”
His gaze dipped to her mouth again. Abruptly, he stepped back. “Dunno, Anna Grace. Ain’t so sure you’re ready for that.”
The back door flung open. Kaci shuffled in with a goofy grin. She’d wrapped a sarong around her waist, and her belly button ring glinted in the light. “You get that pie in the oven yet?” she asked. “Lance is firing up the grill.”
She stopped and glanced between them.
Anna turned back to the peach. “Almost.”
“No hurry if you’re busy,” Kaci said.
“Just waiting on the all-clear to go outside for the man-work,” Jackson said.
“Huh.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Anna watched Kaci give them both another once-over.
“Well, if that’s the case, you go on out there,” Kaci said
“Yes, ma’am.” Jackson snitched a peach slice and winked at Anna. He took the plate of ribs Kaci pulled out of the fridge, then disappeared out the back door.
Kaci fluffed her hair and tied it back into a ponytail. “He flirting with you?”
“I think so.”
“Sugar, if you don’t know for sure, he’s not doing it right.”