It was a promise, one he’d known I’d consent to before I did.
The realization shocked me mute. I’d have ridden his face like a pony without disturbing my wholehearted disdain for him.
Until that moment, I hadn’t known both emotions could be present at the same time.
Before I found my words, my sisters pushed around him to intercept the exchange, greeting him, making some small talk. And all the while I just looked at him, perplexed by the shape of his lips and the knowledge that I’d love to have them on me.
At least it would mean he wasn’t talking.
They swept me away, blaming Billy and Bobby for not being able to get back to me.
Poppy leaned in. “You’re welcome for the rescue party.”
“You just saved my life,” I admitted in earnest.
“I know.”
But she didn’t.
She had no fucking clue.
6
Biscuits and Maybe
GRANT
“Mornin’, Mr. Stone.”
Salma shuffled in my direction with a smile on her face and biscuits in one hand, holding up a bit of her zippered bathrobe in the other so she didn’t trip.
“Morning, Mrs. Hayak.” I rose, taking the biscuits from her and cupping her elbow to help her up.
A flush on weathered cheeks. “Oh, you just call me Salma. Only people who call me Mrs. Hayak are the ones who think I’m that pretty actress.”
“Ever mess with people about it?”
She exhaled a dry chuckle. “Used to more, ’specially when I’d go into town. I can get a reservation into any restaurant in Austin with a name like this.” When I laughed, she went on. “Made some biscuits this morning, thought you might like some.”
“They smell like heaven.”
“Let’s hope they taste as good.”
“Thank you. I have a few jars of Blum honey I’d like to try.” I held the screen door for her and followed her into the house.
“Oh, Blum honey is just the sweetest thing in a hundred miles.”
“All I’ve had so far is a sample of the habanero.”
She turned to give me a sympathetic look. “You alright? There’s Pepto under the sink if you need it. Yankee stomachs aren’t meant for habanero anything.”
I chuckled, setting the plate on the small table before moving to the kitchen for a jar of not-habanero and a honey dipper I’d found in a drawer of utensils. “I think it was a test.”
“Did you pass?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
“Those girls,” she said fondly, shaking her head. “Always getting into trouble. Iris Jo fell out of my pear tree when she was eight and broke her arm. Didn’t even make a sound other than the racket when she hit the ground, and a half-dozen pears flew out of her arms. When I caught her, she was trying to run off with them. Told her I didn’t care a lick about the pears, but I had six boys and was well acquainted with broken bones, and that one needed a doctor. Little devil still wiggled away, even managed to take the pears with her.” She chuckled. “Boy, when I heard how bad the break was, I couldn’t believe she was upright, never mind running away with an armful of fruit. My son Eugene had a break half that bad, and you’d think somebody’d pulled his arm off and beat him to half to death with it.” She shook her head. “If that little girl has one thing, it’s determination.”
“I’ve run up against that myself.” I pulled apart a biscuit, releasing a plume of steam.
“I suspect you have, what with you looking for their rights. They won’t sell,” she noted as if she was saving me from some heartache.
“They might if the opportunity is right.”
“You don’t know the Blums very well. I’ve never met a more headstrong pack of women in my life. They could scare off a tornado with pitchforks and a few well-placed words. And, no offense, Mr. Stone, but I don’t know that you’re as mighty as a tornado.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to underestimate me,” I said with a smile before taking a bite of Salma’s biscuit. It disintegrated in my mouth, and a burst of buttery honey spilled out.
An unbidden moan rumbled deep in my throat.
She smiled at me, folding her bony hands in her lap. “I only mean to help. I’m sure you’re a busy man. Wouldn’t want you to waste your time barking up the wrong tree whether there were pears in it or not.” When she made to stand, it surprised me. I reached for a napkin and moved to stand myself.
“No, don’t get up—you just keep enjoying your breakfast. I’ve got to see about a few things, just wanted to make sure you were fed before you go about your day.”
I got up anyway and followed her to the door. “Thank you, Salma. They’re … well, I’ve never had anything like them.”
“That was the honey,” she said with a knowing smile as I opened the door for her. Carefully, she crossed the threshold, then turned to give me an approving look. “I don’t care what they say about you. I think you’re just fine.”
“Well, look at that,” I teased. “I’ve been aiming for just fine my whole life. Looks like I finally made it.”
“Looks like it. You have a nice day now, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once she was safely down the stairs, I made my way back to my biscuits.
Salma was probably right about more than I’d have liked to admit. Because acknowledging that would mean defeat. And defeat wasn’t really an option.
But I had a bag of tricks, and every one of them had to do with Jo.
I’d spent two days reliving the look on her face when I’d told her I was after her. When she realized just who she was dealing with. I’d wondered a few times what expression had been on my face when Jo had opened her mouth and music came out. I knew how I felt—awed, surprised, struck. Like I’d been hit by lightning, leaving nothing but a dash of soot on the ground.
She was a siren, calling ships into the rocks and a watery death, if the town was to be believed. But I wasn’t superstitious. I didn’t believe in fate or curses or destiny—life was what we made it. We had what we took.
And I was going to take that farm.
Jo too, if I played it right.
The challenge was acquiring their rights, sure, but now that I’d gotten a glimpse of Jo Blum, the game had new stakes. I didn’t realize I’d enjoy flipping her so much, but already I looked forward to seeing her when we were apart, if not just to find new and interesting ways to prove her wrong. Mostly to enjoy the volley of conversation that felt more like foreplay than an argument.
I’d listened to the Blum sisters sing all last night, and every time Jo took the microphone, that strange sensation rooted me to the spot. She’d avoided me the rest of the night, and I didn’t chase her down, opting instead for the occasional snag of her gaze, turning my tractor beams up to eleven. By the way she kept eyeing my lips, I knew the window was open. And I knew I wanted to know what her lips tasted like just as much as I had a feeling she wanted to know the same.
For the first time since getting to Lindenbach, I had a shot at everything I wanted—the rights to these farms, the outrageous bonus, and a romp with Jo.