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“You will,” Mama said, opening the fridge and taking out the chilled pie dough. “Now, tell me where he’s from and what he did before he came to the ranch.”
Jill’s voice stuck in her throat, and her first instinct was to deflect the question. Instead, she said. “Uh, he was in the River Bay Federal Correctional Facility. You know, with Nate, and Ted, and Dallas.”
Mama’s movements barely hitched, but Jill saw them. Thankfully, McKenna came through the back door at that moment, laughing at the top of her lungs. “Jilly, Mama, you have to come see what a mess Daddy made with the wheelbarrow.”
“Oh, dear,” Mama said, abandoning the dough. She hurried as fast as she could to the back door, where Kenna was still cackling. Jill followed, because she could use a good laugh to drive her reservations about her mother’s current health condition—along with Slate—out of her mind.
* * *
A few hours later,Jill made the final turn that pointed her toward an old, white farmhouse at the end of the driveway. Slate’s truck sat there, so she knew she’d found the right place. Her heartbeat hammered out of control, but she couldn’t back out now. Literally, as another truck pulled into the driveway the moment she put her car in park.
She watched in her rearview mirror as Slate pulled around her and parked next to his truck, a smile on his face. They got out of their vehicles at the same time, and he said, “Hey, Jill,” before turning back to open the back door of the truck. Two dogs spilled out, one already barking. They came trotting around her car to greet her, both of them jumping up on her legs.
She giggled at the pups, their faces flat just like a shih tzus. “You guys look so good,” she said. “Did you get baths today?”
“Just got ‘em from the groomer,” Slate said, rounding the back of her car too. “Go on, girls. Go find Granny.”
The dogs listened to him, and Jill looked up and into his dark eyes. He still wore his black slacks from church that morning, but he’d replaced the white shirt and tie with a yellow polo that was so light, it was the color of freshly churned butter.
“You don’t look like you’ve been here all afternoon,” she teased, taking in the spotless quality of his shirt.
“Well, I have,” he said with a smile. He glanced toward the house as a screeching noise came from the screen door. “My grandparents have aged since I’ve last seen them.” He wore concern in the line between his eyebrows, and his voice had dropped in volume. “Come meet them, and then I’ll show you the farm.”
“Okay,” Jill said, feeling like she and Slate were all over the place. They technically hadn’t even gone on a first date yet. But he’d held her hand, and now she was meeting his grandparents. It all felt rushed and out of order, but as she walked behind him up the narrow sidewalk to the wide front steps, it also felt right.
He’d called that afternoon and asked if she’d like to come see his grandparents’ farm, but the peach pie had just come out of the oven. Jill had said yes, and she’d made a graceful exit from her parents’ while McKenna and Reece had been setting the table for a light dinner of sandwiches and pie.
“Granny,” Slate said, barely a Texan note in his voice. “This is Jill Kyle. She works at the ranch with me.” He smiled at the elderly woman and then back at Jill. “Her parents live right over in Sugar Hill.” That sounded more Texan, and Jill fastened a smile to her face. “Jill, this is my grandmother, Edith.”
“Right nice to meet you, ma’am,” she said, perhaps pouring her accent on a bit thick. She shook the older woman’s hand, and while her skin was papery and soft, she had a firm grip. Her hair was nearly white and cut short, almost like Jill’s.
“You too,” she said with a smile. “Are you and Slate an item?” She shot a look at Slate, who lowered his head, effectively hiding his face with the brim of that cowboy hat he seemed to never take off.
Slate chuckled and shook his head. “Granny, I told you this story already.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Jill said, glancing from him to his grandmother.
She grinned and folded her arms. “I like her, Slate.”
Slate lifted his head, a full smile on that gorgeous face. “Me too, Granny, and you’re embarrassing me.”
“Oh, what good am I if I’m not embarrassing someone?” she asked. “Come in, Jill. It’s way too hot to stand out here. I’ll tell you that story…”
“Granny,” Slate said, practically jumping between Jill and his grandmother. “It’s not your story to tell.”
“She wants to know.”
They continued to bicker as they went through the living room and into the kitchen, where Edith poured sweet tea for everyone and got out a box of cookies. For some reason, Jill couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe because of how relaxed Slate seemed. He strung together more than a few words, and even a few sentences. He was natural, and fun, and he clearly adored his granny.
When he glanced at her and found her grinning, he asked, “What are you smilin’ about?” in a falsely gruff voice.
“Just you,” she said, feeling her face starting to stretch too far. She pulled back on the smile and accepted the glass of sweet tea from Edith, though she wasn’t very thirsty. She lifted the glass and took a sip, and wow. “This is amazing,” she said, the tartness of the tea bursting through her mouth.
“Oh, don’t say that,” Slate said with a smile. “She already thinks her sweet tea is the stuff Texas runs on.”
“It is,” Edith said, drawing her shoulders forward. “I’ve won four county fairs with this tea, I’ll have you know.”
“I know, Granny.” He took his glass and the whole box of cookies. “We don’t have long before the sun sets. I’ll come say goodbye before I go.”
