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He turned back to Millie. "Dad and Zoe are probably going to kiss tonight. That's why we can't have ice cream with them. They need quiet time."

Millie pressed her lips together.

Renzo made a sound behind her that he disguised as a cough.

"Well," Millie said, very seriously. "That sounds like a very good reason. Shall we go find the strawberries?"

James took her hand immediately and they headed around the side of the house, already deep in conversation about what strawberries looked like when they were ready to pick.

I looked at Renzo.

Renzo looked at me.

"Not a word," I said.

He held up both hands. "I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I was about to say have a good evening." He smiled with every tooth he had. "Go. She's waiting."

I went.

I swung by my house and picked up my order from the Down Home Diner that I’d picked up right before they closed at three o’clock. Now my truck smelled like fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

My stomach growled.

I’d called in my order at noon. Little Grandma had been the one to answer, and she'd taken my order without comment and then asked, “Is this for a special occasion?”

I'd said, “A little bit.”

And she'd said, “I'll put in something extra.” I had learned enough about Jasper Creek by now to know that by morning at least four people would know I'd called in a dinner order for two.

I didn't mind, which was really weird. This little town atmosphere was not bothering me in the slightest. Instead I felt welcomed.

Zoe was on her porch when I pulled up. She was in jeans and a soft dark top and flat boots, dressed for comfort just like I had suggested. Maybe I should have said something else, though, because she had looked pretty damn comfortable with herself in those boots and that sweater dress last week.

Damn, I needed to stop thinking about that outfit.

She grinned at me and waved, and now I was obsessing about a whole different version of Zoe.

She came down the steps before I got to the door. Old habit now. I waited for her at the bottom.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded.

I helped her into the cab of my truck, and she sniffed. “You brought dinner,” she accused.

“Guilty as charged.”

She looked into the backseat and saw the bags for Down Home Diner. “Did Little Grandma set you up?”

I nodded.

“By this time tomorrow, half the town will know you bought take-out for me.”

“And that doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”