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She pours a cup of coffee and a little bit of half-and-half.
“Sugar’s right there,” I say, pointing to the little glass bowl.
“I’ll get my sugar with the pancakes,” she says.
I lift my eyebrows. “That never stopped you before.”
She shrugs and I want to kiss her shoulder and down her neck and keep going.
I clear my throat instead. “I’m sorry for making it weird last night. I’m—”
She’s already shaking her head. “No, you don’t owe me an apology. I know this is all a lot to take in. I’m just happy you’re willing to be my friend again.”
I swallow hard and nod, feeling off-center.
If I’ve wanted to marry Sofie since we were in elementary school, how exactly am I supposed to think of her as a friend now?
Whatever she needs…that’s what you’re doing,I tell myself, trying not to get too aggressive with the pancake flipping.
Once we have a nice stack ready, I motion toward the deck. “Want to eat out there?”
“That sounds perfect.” She grabs everything she can carry and so do I, and we walk out into the beautiful morning.
It’s my favorite kind of day, almost 70 degrees and sunny, and when we sit down at the table, facing each other, I can’t believe we’re here,together.
And I decide I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it this way.
We dig into the food and her head falls back after her first bite.
“Oh, don’t tell Jo, but these might be the best I’ve ever tasted,” she says.
“Better thanSunny Side?” I tease. “It’s actually thanks to Jo that I can make these. Every now and then I’ve worked over there when they’re shorthanded…if it’s during a slower stretch for me. This started out as her recipe and I just…embellished a little.”
“I’d be surprised if you have much free time. Every time I ever saw Dr. Baxter, he griped about how he never had a break.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sighs. “So good.”
I smile, almost too distracted by her to eat.
“Dr. Baxter seemed old and exhausted even when we were kids.” I laugh. “And he wasn’t wrong—there’s always something to do, especially during the spring and summer. I just don’t have many commitments outside of my job…no wife and kids.”
She pauses chewing and swallows before nodding. Her eyes drop to her plate.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
She doesn’t hesitate. “I feel slightly guilty for how happy I am that you don’t have a wife or kids.”
“I’m happy you don’t have a wife or kids too…or—” I tilt my head. “Do you?”
We both laugh. Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks down at her plate. “I do have a goddaughter that I’m crazy about—Dakota. But definitely no wife, no. And no husband either.” She grins. “I’m hoping Dakota and her mom, Marlow, will come visit me. The two of them and a few of the people I worked with are the only things I miss about Texas.”
“What made you choose Texas?”
“My car broke down near the ranch. I didn’t have a clue at the time. I’d only stopped to gas up the car and go to the bathroom, no extra stops, no sleep…and if everything had been okay with the car, I would’ve kept going until I reached the gulf. One of the ranch hands was on his way to work early that morning and watched as my car started smoking on the side of the road.”
The thought of her being stuck on the side of the road with a broken-down car and a man stopping makes my stomach turn.
“Fortunately, he was decent. But I’d picked up a baseball bat at one of the gas stations just in case I ran into any trouble, and I had it in my hand when I got out of the car.”
“Shit,” I whisper.
