Chapter Eleven #2
He tugged on his collar. “You’re a right funny girl, Anna Grace.”
She methodically split her cookie into bite-size pieces. “Had to check. I didn’t enjoy getting divorced the first time, and I don’t plan to put myself in a position to go through anything like it again.” And that was as serious as she wanted to get with him. “But I think you’re cute.”
He rewarded her with one of those grins that made her very happy to be a single woman. “So you’re telling me my timing’s getting better.”
“It’s not getting worse. And I’ve obviously been a good influence, because your grammar’s getting better too.”
The slide of his leg against hers told her he took that as encouragement.
She didn’t mind a bit.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked her out to her car. “You okay to drive home?” he asked.
She nodded. “Much better now. Thanks.”
“Call any night you need a pick-me-up, you hear?” He brushed a kiss to her temple.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. She couldn’t resist it. Might as well indulge. Just because she wouldn’t get married again didn’t mean she had to stay celibate. Besides, he had an expiration date called orders. That would be easy enough to walk away from. “Can I call for anything else?”
“Anytime, Anna Grace. Anytime.” He twirled her hair around his fingers, then dropped it and stepped back. “Drive safe.”
“You too.” He turned away, but she impulsively reached for his hand. “Jackson. Thank you. Again. This helped a lot.”
“Yeah?” He stepped back into her personal space. “Don’t suppose you’re grateful enough to tell me about your biscuits.”
She licked her lips. She wasn’t thinking about biscuits at all. But if she did this, there was no turning back. He was friends with Kaci. She’d see him again. A lot.
Excitement tingled her girly bits.
She grabbed his face and went up on her tiptoes, then pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands settled on her waist. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back.
Lordy, did he ever kiss her back.
The hint of strawberries was nothing compared with the rich flavors of coffee and caramel on his lips. He slanted his mouth over hers, his breath tickling her cheek. She slid her arms up and around his neck, pushing up higher on her toes.
Neil hadn’t been this tall.
He’d always stayed in decent shape, but she didn’t recall his being as solid as Jackson was.
Or as thorough.
Did a guy get this good at kissing through practice? Was it her fault Neil had been a bad kisser, because they hadn’t practiced enough?
Or was Neil simply inadequate?
Jackson broke the kiss, but he kept his hands anchored around her waist. He tilted his forehead against hers. “That’s some awful loud thinking, Anna Grace.”
She froze. “I-I’m sorry. I—it’s—crap.” Kissing wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.
“That bad, was it?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No! It was very nice.”
“Nice?”
The way he said it didn’t sound nice. “Better than nice.” It was enough to make her tingle in places she’d forgotten another human being could excite, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Not by a long shot. “It was a lot better than nice. It was…nicer.”
His body shuddered against hers. She popped one eye open and found him shaking with silent laughter. “Highest praise I’ve had all day.”
She tried to untangle herself, but something about the cool evening made her want to huddle close for warmth, though she doubted he would appreciate it now. “I’m not very good at this,” she said.
“You’re good at something or we wouldn’t still be here.” He hooked a hand around her neck and kissed her forehead again. “Next time, Anna Grace, I’ll make sure you’re not thinking about anything else.”
She suppressed a shiver at the promise lurking deep in his voice. If he could deliver—well, did that count as being cured of her divorce? The physical parts, anyway?
For now, she’d take heart that he was willing to try. She licked her lips. “You’re on.”
He released her. A wave of cool air wrapped her body. “I’ll be seeing you, Anna Grace.”
The look in his eyes guaranteed that was a promise.
There was nothing like a nice hot morning squirrel hunting with a ragamuffin crew tagging along to make a man wish it was deer season.
The three pans of biscuits Mamie and Miss Ophelia had set in the front seat of Jackson’s truck should’ve been his first clue, but while Miss Ophelia rattled on about Miss Flo’s having three single granddaughters now, such a shame, tsk tsk, Jackson’s mind had been circling back to peach pie.
But not the kind that came in a pie plate.
Even Mamie’s description of the girl who’d baked his third pan of biscuits—a nice Baptist girl who did things her parents called scandalous—hadn’t been enough to distract him.
He had a feeling Mamie knew it.
But then Louisa had driven up in that car that made him think of donuts, and that’d distracted everybody.
“You told ’em we were hunting, right?” Craig said. They were unloading the shotguns from the back of Jackson’s truck.
Jackson took his time looking over one of Daddy’s old shotguns that he was holding on to for Louisa. Beat looking at the womenfolk who were yapping loud enough to scare a bear. “Yep.”
“Good thing squirrel sees about the same as you do.”
Jackson gave the women another once-over.
Louisa was wearing camouflage, though it was tight enough that she would’ve looked more appropriate in the kind of place she better never set foot in.
Miss Ophelia had on a dress that even he could tell was brighter than the sunshine.
Only Mamie was in sensible pants and boots, but she was talking into her phone, using some app that acted like an old-fashioned Dictaphone. Radish sat adoringly at her feet.
Or maybe snoringly. Getting hard to tell with the old girl.
“You young fellers need any help?” Miss O’s boyfriend, Cletus, sauntered over to the back of the truck with the bowlegged stride of a man whose center of gravity had finally shifted below his better assets. He gave Craig a nudge. “Or care to make an old man look useful in front of his girl?”
Craig handed the old guy a shotgun.
“Loaded?” Cletus asked.
“Not yet.”
Cletus went back to the women. To show ’em how to hold a gun, he said on a wink.
Louisa started to reply to that, the slant to her eyes saying more than the words she had yet to launch. Jackson shot her a look, and thank the blessed stars, she shut her trap.
Beside him, Craig chuckled. “How far is it to your place from here?”
“About an hour.”
“We could give ’em a head start.”
Decent idea. But far as he knew, not one of them knew first aid.
Mamie’d written a couple of doctors and nurses in her books, but Jackson didn’t reckon her research had given her hands-on experience.
He eyed the truck bed. “Huh,” he said pointedly.
“Looks like I forgot the shells.” Brought his dog too.
Wouldn’t have done that if he thought he had any real chance of bagging squirrel today.
Craig clapped him on the shoulder. “Next time, man.”
Coming home had been good for something, at least. He’d forgotten how much fun he and Craig used to have.
They both looked at the women and Cletus again. “Your mamie’s gonna be disappointed,” Craig said.
“She’ll be happy with getting a feel for the lay of the land. Next time I’m in town, I’ll take her out to the range so she can see how shooting feels.”
“Can’t decide if you’re brave or nuts.”
Jackson thought of a certain pair of doe eyes and showed a rueful smile. “Little bit of both.”
They broke the unfortunate news to the ladies and Cletus that they wouldn’t be taking home any squirrels unless they happened to get close enough to club ’em on the head with the butt of a shotgun. No one seemed to mind, so they went ahead and traipsed into the woods for Mamie’s research.
If Jackson didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Louisa looked relieved. But she shook her dark curls down her back and marched up alongside him. “Awful careless of you,” she said with a sidelong glance. “Guess you’ve been distracted.”
Yeah, he’d had pie on his mind lately, but admitting that to Louisa would be akin to inviting his family over to sift through his underwear drawer. “Distracted by what?”
“That piss-poor lineup Alabama’s calling a football team this year.”
“Louisa Margaret, I know your momma didn’t raise you to talk like that,” Mamie said. “Lord-a-mercy, what your father’d say if he heard you now. Got half a mind to take you over my own knee.”
“Squirrel!” Miss O flung her gun up so fast, Radish dove between Jackson’s legs.
She aimed at the tree straight overhead.
Her hair tilted all funny. Cletus clapped a hand to it.
“That’s right,” she said to the sky, “you go on and run, you little furry rascal. If I had some bullets, you’d be going in my soup pot tonight. ”
“Ophelia, that’s not how hunters talk,” Mamie said. “They get all quiet-like and creep along until they’ve got a good shot.”
“I had him in my sights.”
“But squirrel’s got ears, you know.”
Jackson squeezed Mamie’s shoulder. “We’ll find another one.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And we’ll do it quiet-like. What we need to do now is find us a good tree all full of nuts to sit under.”
Craig grinned and shook his head.
Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was thinking.
“Should’ve brought them biscuits Flo’s younger granddaughter baked,” Mamie murmured.
“Now you hush,” Miss Ophelia whispered back. “She’s the prettier one.”
“Shows in her baking, bless her heart.”
“Don’t matter none,” Louisa said. “Jackson don’t like any of their biscuits.”
Miss Ophelia gasped. Cletus patted her shoulder. “I like your biscuits,” he said.
“Did he tell you that?” Mamie demanded of Louisa.
“Didn’t see him eating any of them, did you?”
All five of them turned to look at him. “Had a big breakfast,” he said.
Mamie peered over her spectacles. “You getting a taste for something other than biscuits?”
Danged if his ears weren’t getting all hot like when Anna Grace called him out on being more than a dumb old redneck the other night. “PFT coming up.”
Her lips pursed. “You ain’t telling me you’re getting too old to run a couple miles and do a few push-ups and sit-ups, now, are you?”
“He is getting a few gray hairs,” Louisa said.
Jackson tucked her into a headlock. He pointed down the path. “Y’all want to hunt squirrels or not?”
“We should get going,” Miss Ophelia said. “Flo and Dolly are setting out lunch over the pass. And Dolly’s bringing that girl from her church who fries chicken so nice.”
“That means she’s got buckteeth and birthing hips,” Louisa said.
“Bless her heart,” Mamie agreed on a sigh. She patted Jackson’s arm. “Don’t you worry none, sugarplum. Still lots of nice young ladies out there for you.”
But nice young ladies got ideas. And there wasn’t one of them who could touch Anna Grace’s pies. Hunting season or not, that suited him fine. He had a feeling some milk would go good with her pie, and he was patient enough to wait for it.