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Jack follows.

"Tell her."

"Tell her what?"

He gives me a long look.

"How you feel."

"No."

His eyebrows rise.

"No?"

"No. That wouldn't work."

Jack waits. Like he's expecting me to say something else. I don't. I wait. A few seconds pass.

"Then I've got nothing."

I stare at him.

"That's your advice?"

"You rejected my advice."

"It was bad advice."

"It was my only advice."

I study him. He reaches for the creeper.

"Glad I could help."

I almost tell him he didn't. Instead, I slide back under the truck. Because I asked Jack how to deal with Hart, and somehow he managed to make the situation even less clear.

The farm has quieted by the time I return to the kitchen. Most of the volunteers have gone home. Hart left nearly an hour ago to pick up Noah. I know that too. I'm ignoring what that says about me.

The sauce has cooled, so I warm a spoonful and taste it again. The fresh basil lifts the tomato and roasted pepper without covering the cardamom. Exactly the way she said it would.

Damn it. She was right. Again. I should be annoyed. Instead, I'm impressed. Which is worse.

I turn off the burner and start putting things away. Then I remember what she said.

I'd still love to taste the final version.

There's no reason to save any specifically for her. There will be more tomorrow. I reach for a container anyway. Spoon some sauce into it. Put on the lid.

I could leave it at that. Instead, I find a marker. One word.

HART.

I stare at it for a second. Then put the container in the refrigerator and close the door.

I told Jack that telling her how I feel wouldn't work. Good thing I have absolutely no idea what I'm feeling.

Chapter Ten