Page 32 of The Sweetness of Life

“In culinary school. She sat down next to Meg and me, and the rest is history. Second semester she moved in with us, and for two years, the three of us were inseparable.”

He pauses and bites down on his lower lip.

A waitress swoops by and drops off a plate.

“Biscuits. Yum.” Snatching one, I drop the subject, slather on some butter and blackberry jam, and then put half on a plate for me and the other half on a plate for him. I push it toward his side of the table. He looks at me as if I’m crazy but pulls it in front of him. With each bite he takes, I can feel a little more of the previous tension melt away.

“You win—that’s tasty.” He licks his fingers, and I’m suddenly mesmerized by his hands. “Do you have a biscuit recipe you could use for us?”

Us.

I pause before answering him, and he looks at me funny.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I also spotted some strawberries out behind the cottage that are ready to be picked, so I’ll make a jam with them.”

“Can we make this tomorrow?” He cracks a lopsided grin at me.

“I don’t see why not,” I say and then lick my lips. I can still taste the jam and butter from my own biscuit. Zach’s eyes drop to my mouth as he watches me and then they cut left to something over my shoulder. I swear this guy gives me whiplash.

“So, how did you become friends with Lexi?” I ask.

He answers between bites. “I played football with her brother in college.”

“I know that, but she didn’t go to college with him, and from what I know, she barely made it to any of his games.”

“No, she only came to two that I know of, but everyone knew who Lexi was because he talked about her all the time. I invited him up for a visit one summer, and she tagged along. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Eventually our food comes, and most of our conversation halts. The food is as good as I remembered it, and Zach agrees with me that this restaurant is a good choice for the recommendation section of the article. We purchase a Tupelo Honey cookbook, and with our stomachs full, we head back to the truck.

“So, are you glad you came with me?” I ask, looking for an opportunity to gloat and rub in that the drive was worth it.

Zach, who doesn’t appear to have heard me, sways in front of me and grabs the back of his neck.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He again doesn’t answer but glances my way as I catch up to him and his steps slow down.

“You do that a lot,” I say as we walk to the passenger side of the truck.

He leans against the door, takes off his sunglasses, and looks at me—his crushingly beautiful blue eyes are slightly glazed. “Do what?”

“Rub your neck.” Concern begins to set in as I watch this large, incredibly masculine guy begin to fade and withdraw right in front of me. Somewhere in the background, I hear a horn honk and people laugh, but all I see is him. His skin turns pale, his lips dry out, and it’s like instant bruising forms under his eyes.

For the first time since I met him, he’s looking at me, I’m looking at him, and neither one of us knows what to do or say next.

Fearing he may fall over, I take a step toward him at the same time as he reaches for me—one hand on the truck and one hand on my arm. My hands land on his hips to steady him as he looks down at me helplessly.

“Suppose I do.” He swallows. “I get headaches pretty easily, sometimes quickly, and one just set in.” Not even hesitating, he leans forward, pulls off his hat, rests his forehead on my shoulder, and rubs his stomach. “Shit,” he mumbles.

I’m stunned by not only his nearness but also how he’s folded into me for support. Me, a person he’s tolerating but doesn’t really like. This isn’t just out of character for him—this is alarming.

“Why?” I ask quietly, holding on to him.

He turns his head so his cheek is resting on me, and he breathes right into my neck. The warmth of the air dissolves into my skin, my heart rate involuntarily picks up, and chills race over my body. “I don’t know what brings them on. I’m susceptible to getting them, and lately, I’ve been trying to figure out if there’s a trigger, but I can’t seem to find any connections.”

Triggers. I think back over our meal. It wasn’t loaded with sugar, and the caffeine in the tea is supposed to help headaches, not cause them.

“Did you know it was coming? We could have left sooner.”