“Snippy?”
“My grandmother says that.” She turned up the corner of her mouth. “I was irritated and getting back at you. The cold enchiladas, the leftover coffee.” She allowed a small smile. “The no beans and rice comment.”
“I deserved every bit of it.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “I meant to come home sooner. But every day, my mother or sisters had something they needed help with. Talking to Ma’s doctors about her anxiety, doing repairs around the house, taking her car in. Sadie’s oldest son is having a hard time at school, and he’s been getting in trouble. She asked me to talk to him, which I did.” He shook his head. “One day turned into two, then three, that turned into a week, and before I knew it, I’d burned through our vacation time.”
He looked down at his hands. “With every day that flew by, more guilt piled up and the harder it was to pick up the phone. Can you try to understand? It won’t ever happen again.”
Jo smoothed her hand along his arm, and he raised his gaze to her. He was being honest.
“I can see how that could happen,” she said, keeping her promise to herself to give their relationship one more chance. “Let’s put this behind us.”
The relief on his face was so plain it made her chest ache. He squeezed her hand and held it.
“Then I forgive you for the cold enchiladas, too,” he said, his eyes crinkling with humor.
Jo responded with a faux huff. “Even cold, those enchiladas were delicious, and you know it.”
“I didn’t leave a speck on the plate, did I?” He grinned, and there he was.
The Blue she’d fallen for. The one who, with his lazy smile, could make her feel like the only person in the room—even when the room was her crowded diner on a Friday night.
He slid next to her, cradled her face in his hand, and kissed her again. “I think we’re making progress.”
Not quite ready to give him full satisfaction, Jo only smiled. She was enjoying his attention. “The night is still young.”
“So it is. I need to check the fire.”
After deeming it perfect, he put two thick steaks on the grill and let them sizzle over the coals. Two ears of corn in their husks sat to one side on the rack, along with a covered pan.
“What’s in the pan?” Jo asked.
“Jalapeño cornbread, made from scratch.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I looked up a recipe. I sliced jalapeños and grated cheddar just for you. If it’s terrible, then I’ll have to pull out another apology.”
Jo chuckled at that. She stood beside him at the grill and watched the flames lick the edges of the steaks. The charcoal popped and hissed, and the smoke curled up into the evening sky.
On the surface, their relationship was regaining its footing.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, thinking about the rest of their issues.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Do you remember why my coffee at the diner is so special?”
Blue turned from the grill and looked at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Do you?”
“You told me every detail about it. You went on that trip to South America with the other women from your restaurant group. You sat with the cooperative and tasted the coffee at the farm. You came home and talked about it for days. I loved that you had done that.”
He flipped a steak. “And you went to Hawaii to meet Mahina when I had to work because I was covering vacations in the department. You sent me pictures of the coffee groves, and I showed them to everyone at the station. How could I forget any of that?”
Jo stared at him. “I didn’t know you were listening or fully appreciating what I was doing.”
“I might not ask a lot of questions,” Blue said, turning the corn. “Because I figure you know what you’re doing. You always have. But I listen to every word you say.” He set down the tongs and faced her. “I care about you. And I admire what you’ve done with your business more than I’ve probably told you.”
