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I hummed a vague agreement.
He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed for a few extra heartbeats. I fought my instinct to open my eyes and look up at him. I didn’t want to do anything that might jerk me from this lovely bubble of contentment.
Looking at him as unguarded as I was now... No, out of the question. All my conflicted feelings would surely shine from my eyes.
My empty stomach had no such qualms. The growl sounded like it came from a hibernating bear waking in the spring. So embarrassing.
Hand pressed to my noisy belly, my eyes shot open. I struggled through my relaxed, pain-free fog to find words to explain away the startling sound. I floundered; my mouth moved, but nothing came out. Stupid zombie brain.
He chuckled and squeezed my leg. “I guess that’s my sign to get cooking.” He stood from the bed.
“I could help.” I made a move to get out of bed and help. It was a sunburn, not a broken leg.
“No, lie there and let the cream work.” His stern expression invited no argument.
He flipped off the fan and left me alone in the room with my empty stomach and blessedly cool skin. I stared at the ceiling fan as it slowed and finally stopped spinning, at a loss for how to understand what was happening.
It was easier not to think than to unpack my overstuffed suitcase of contradictory feelings. So, I didn’t. I lay still and worked to keep my thoughts at bay. The alternative would have me analyzing every touch and word that had passed between us. I’d build up the emotions into a towering monument to what could never be.
Sooner than expected, Wilson returned with a large tray. Ducking through the door with a worried smile on his lips, he looked at me still sprawled on the bed.
The tantalizing aroma of garlic and warm bread made my mouth water. Moving gingerly, careful of my sunburned arms, I sat up. It was astonishing how much better my skin felt already. I joined him at a small table in front of a bay window. He arranged a simple meal of shrimp, salad, and bread. It was an impressive spread to put together in such a short amount of time.
“Sorry, no wine. You’ll sleep like a baby that’s contracted narcolepsy after one of those pills.” He took the top off a lemon-flavored sparkling water and held it over my empty glass.
“Yes, please.” I sagged into the chair while he poured me a half glass. “You cook.”
“I grill. It’s a technical difference that is often lost on others.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I apply heat to raw foodstuffs. I don’t bake, fry, or sauté. Not my wheelhouse. But grilling is a lot like chemistry. Add heat. Get desired result.” He flashed his Hollywood-worthy grin at me. And I couldn’t help remembering how his gray sweatpants clung to every curve of his fine ass. The combination of clinging cotton, kitchen skills, and a killer smile drove me to drink. Unfortunately, I had bubbly water in my glass.
“Noted.” I speared a perfectly cooked garlic-flavored shrimp with my fork and took a bite. I didn’t stifle my groan of approval. “You can grill for me anytime.”
Not that I expected it to happen ever again. Or did I? Hell’s bells. I took another bigger sip of the sparkling water, determined to wash away the remnants of the food and the confusing thoughts.
“Glad you like the food.” A glimmer of satisfaction lit his eyes. “While I was grilling, your brother texted. He and the oh-so-helpful Jethro retrieved your car.” The eye roll that accompanied Jethro’s name was not helping me ignore my confusing thoughts. Instead, it sparked a million new ones.
Was Wilson jealous? Did I want that? Was I overreacting? It was only one kiss and some skin care products. I shook my head to clear the tangled thoughts.
“He also asked me to tell you he’d crash at your place to monitor Bailey tonight.” He put air quotes around the wordmonitor. Bailey would have agreed. A night with Uncle Colton was a bit like being on house arrest.
“Poor Bailey. No wonder she wants out of this town and Texas for college. She’s eighteen, but my brother can’t bear the idea of her spending one night at home alone.”
“Overprotective uncle?”
“It’s not just him. It’s more like an overprotective town. You know that saying it takes a village? Elmer helped me raise her, and the town isn’t dealing well with her growing up.”
“I’ve noticed that. You and Bailey are very popular around here. At the grocery store, the coffee shop, and even the vineyard, everyone has a Cami and Bailey story to tell me. You’re the town’s favorite. They all tell me how responsible they feel for you since... ” He cringed and trailed off. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. He fiddled with his napkin and wouldn’t look at me.
This town. I wanted to scream. Wilson had just arrived and already, they were filling him in on my past. And undoubtedly making me out to be a poor, unfortunate wretch. How long until my life story wasn’t prime fodder for the gossip mill?
Even with a sun zombie brain, I could see he felt bad for reminding me I was a widow. It’s not that I hated the word, but it never felt like the correct label. Widows were sweet little old ladies clutching yellowing black and white photos of their wedding day fifty years past. Not someone like me. Not a young, er, young-ish woman with a busy life and a daughter to raise.
I took a fortifying sip of my bubbly water, forcing myself to savor it like I would wine. The bright flavor and a hint of citrus were a nice counterpoint to my bitter thoughts and paired well with the shrimp.
“Elmer is the best town and the worst town to live in after a tragedy. They rally around a neighbor that is in need like no other place in the world.” My busy mind made me clumsy, and my glass clinked loudly when I set it down a little too forcefully.
