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Surprisingly—and thankfully—a small, amused laugh spills from her lips. “Well, anyone good enough for a visit from Christ himself is good in my book.” I almost snort as she continues, “Which means I like you already.” Then, she winks.
I have no idea who she is or what she’s talking about, but I’m still busy finding my equilibrium.
Obviously better at coping with the aftermath of a near-collision than I am, she releases her hands from my face and lets out a big exhale, stepping back just a touch.
It’s only then that I notice just how lovely she really is. Her face is soft with wisdom, and her blond hair is laced with a little bit of salt and pepper that only makes her more stunning—and she wears her jeans and trim, western-style button-down like she knows exactly who she is and who she wants to be.
I’m not one to dwell or flounder with self-doubt, but the kind of confidence and self-awareness she so obviously has seem like a distant goal for a woman my age, still trying to make a place for herself in this world.
“I guess I scared you, huh, honey?” she asks, and I offer a simple nod.
“Just a little bit. I-I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.” I stumble some to explain. The only other explanation is that, after my pseudo-meeting-more-like-dismissal with Rhett, I was so excited to get back to the cabin—and possibly pack up to leave—that I was taking the final curve like Mario Andretti.
“I was just stopping by to check on you and make sure my husband did a better job of giving you advice than he did of giving you a vehicle. When I got here and didn’t see you, I figured he’d managed to bugger up the both of ’em.”
“Your husband?” I ask, and she smiles before shaking her head.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I ran my mouth this long without introducin’ myself. I’m Jenny. Tex, the fool with the big smile and crappy loaner Jeep, is my husband, and Rhett’s my baby boy. Though, I have’ta admit, there’s not much baby left in him these days.”
I snort. I’ll say. The man’s practically all hard muscle and independence. The day they make actual babies like that is the day a lot of moms walk off the job.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jenny. I’m Leah.”
“Trust me, I know who you are. Already heard a lot about ya.”
I cringe, hoping her son didn’t manage to sneak in a phone call after I left his place. Surely his opinion of me wouldn’t have given the best impression. “I’m hoping what you’ve heard is good?”
“Don’t be silly.” She waves a hand in the air. “I’m pretty sure Tex is already half in love with you himself. Thinks you’re a real hoot, and just between us girls, I’m guessin’ the pretty dress and heels don’t hurt either.”
My eyes widen at the insinuation, and she laughs. “My Tex has a real sweet spot for us ladies. It’s the boys he has a harder time with.”
I suck my lips into my mouth to keep from agreeing with her. I honestly don’t know enough about Tex to even pretend to agree with her. But if this were a courtroom, the way Tex’s son Rhett talked about him would probably be bagged, tagged, and labeled as Exhibit A.
“Now, what do you say we head on into the cabin and enjoy some of the fresh muffins and lemonade I brought over?”
Instantly, my stomach growls, and I remember just how long it’s been since I’ve had anything to eat. This morning, before the sun was even up and before I boarded my flight, I had a slice of turkey bacon and a bottle of water, and it’s now nearing late afternoon.
Needless to say, I’m so hungry that Jenny could be a serial killer with a body in the trunk and I’d still take her up on her offer.
I mean, I’d call the police. Just after I got the muffins.
“I’d love that.”
“Me too.” Her smile is sweeter than sugar. “Just leave this old POS here, and hop in the Volvo with me. We’ll pull up closer, and then I’ll get the snacks from my trunk.”
I do as she suggests, hopping in the passenger side of her car to ride the 100 feet to the front of the cabin, and then follow her lead and climb out when she shuts off the engine. While she grabs the basket of goodies from her trunk, I climb the short flight of front steps to the porch, unlock the cabin door, and walk inside.
It’s not long before we’re both sitting at the small kitchen table with Jenny’s freshly poured lemonade and blueberry muffins in front of us.
I take a sip from the glass and a bite from the baked good and savor the refreshing, sweet flavors of homemade. I don’t even bother hiding my small moan of approval.
