Chapter 21 #3
I’d seen the table when it was completely finished. Stunning. Custom art. Jonah would be inundated with orders if he wanted. “You’re really not doing another project like that again?”
“Nope.” He shook his head and buzzed around the shop with the broom.
I’d given him a massage last night after a full day of working on his feet.
His limp had been more pronounced and he’d squirmed on the couch, telltale signs that he was achy.
Today he was moving better. “The pressure sucks the fun out of the job.”
I tried to equate his resistance with something from my world. We’d have one barrel to make a batch with and sometimes there were packaging catastrophes. Copper Summit had more barrels and could absorb a few disasters. Jonah was a one-man show and he’d take a failure personally.
But I couldn’t get over how well the table had turned out, or how thrilled the customer would be when he saw it. “I think you did his dad’s collectibles justice. Very few people could do that.”
Instead of finding a dustpan, he grabbed a shop vac from the corner. “There are others.” He sucked up the debris he’d swept together.
“What made you do this one?”
He didn’t answer until he’d returned the shop vac to its spot.
Everything had its place. Then he came toward me, his swagger more pronounced with his leg, but the more I was with him in the shop, the more I admired how he moved.
His body was full of power and his limp was his signature swagger. I loved watching him do anything.
I had it bad.
He stopped in front of me and put his hands on the edges of the stool. “I accepted out of a moment of insanity that I blame on you.”
My spine stiffened. I wasn’t sure how much he was playing. “Me?”
“You’re getting me out of my routine, and I decided to try something different.”
Oh. That didn’t sound awful. “Your customer is going to be so happy. It’s like a still shot from one of the movies.”
“I know. I watched a few of those scenes over and over to make sure I got the positioning right.”
I wasn’t going to tell him how to do his job, but I wished he had more confidence in himself. He was an artist. But I wouldn’t get anywhere pushing him, and I had come out here for a different reason. “Mama called.”
“How is she?”
He always asked about my family when I told him I’d talked with someone.
How were Wynter and Myles doing during their first month of parenthood?
How was Autumn, since he hadn’t seen her around town in a while?
He’d heard Junie’s song on the radio and had to tell me.
He’d even asked about my brothers, but there was a thread of regret in his voice each time.
“She’s good. She asked if you’d be interested in coming over for dinner next weekend.”
His expression froze into a carefully neutral look, but his eyes were a storm. Surprise, uncertainty, and probably a little panic wove through his irises. “She wants me over for dinner next weekend?”
His question reminded me of when I interviewed applicants for job openings and they’d echo the question to give themselves more time to formulate a response.
“Yes. Us. I can tell her to keep it small. Cruz and Lane don’t even have to be there.
” They were the only others who lived at the house with Mama. The rest of us came and went.
Confusion wiped out the other emotions, then recognition set in.
“You’ve never met Lane and Cruz?” I’d talked about them, and I’d assumed Jonah knew them aside from their names and how they pertained to the Baileys.
“Maybe I’ve passed them in the store.”
“They were at the wedding. Probably flanking Mama. They can be a little protective.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Good kids.”
I laughed. “We all think of them as kids, but Cruz is twenty now and Lane is twenty-three. But, yeah, they’ve grown up a lot since working on the ranch. Anyway, we can keep it small. I can even tell Mama we’ll take her to Curly’s or something?”
I let my hope rise. I couldn’t explain why a hometown date was important, but it was.
He wasn’t jumping on the invite and my anxiety was ratcheting up with each minute. He knew Mama. He’d been willing to venture to my wedding—for his own personal reasons, but still . . . my wedding. Yet a family dinner was giving him pause.
Was the family part of it scaring him off? “We don’t have to.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll go. It’s just been years since I’ve been at your mama’s.”
Oh. He was correct. It’d be like going back in time and he’d think about how much had changed. “Should I tell her no?”
“I’m not turning down Mae Bailey.”
I smiled, relieved. If he wasn’t willing to disappoint Mama, then he must be willing to start telling people about us. “I can tell Mama to keep it small. To ease you in.”
“Right. No, it’ll be fine.”
Why did he sound like he was convincing himself? I stuffed my worry away. He said he’d do it and he would. I’d reserve any concern until after the dinner. “You mind if I stay next weekend?”
“Absolutely not.”
His lack of hesitation went a long way to calming my nerves. He wanted me and I wanted him and that’d be enough. For now.