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His rushed words, chilled tone . . . Janie felt a sting zap her heart, and she had to duck her head to hide her wince. Not that he’d have seen it, with his stiff back to her. She cleared her throat, willing kindness into her voice though she wanted to throw something sharp and scathing at him with her words.
Or cry.
“I thought we’d go with rustic casual but filling and delicious.”
“Sounds foodie.”
Translation—he didn’t know what she meant and wanted only to know what dishes she planned to make.
“Sloppy joes.”
He stopped drying the bowl, his shoulders pulling straight. “Your homemade sauce?”
“Of course.”
He held still. Then nodded.
Janie watched, waiting for him to turn around. To give her some hint that he wasn’t going to keep a glacier between them forever.
Hunter slowly set the dry bowl on the counter and reached for the last one waiting by the sink. He plunged it into the water, working the dishcloth in the depths of suds. He didn’t even glance her direction.
“Is that it?”
“Of course not.” Janie concentrated on her list, naming her selections in rapid-fire sequence.
When she was done, Hunter was drying the final bowl. He set it on the counter, wiped his hands, and finally turned to look at her. “Thank you.”
She swallowed. “Is it . . . Do you approve?”
He nodded. For a moment, those brown eyes warmed as he held his gaze on her. But in the next heartbeat, he stiffened and moved for the door. “Thanks. Let me know what it’s going to cost, and I’ll get you a check.”
“Hunter.” Janie paced three strides toward him.
Jacket half-applied, he froze. Then he turned.
Janie shivered at the chilled distance he placed between them with that hesitant look. Even so, she eased forward another step, maintaining a straight posture and lifted chin. “It’s time to let the past go, don’t you think?”
Lips pressed into a thin line, Hunter scowled.
Janie pressed on anyway. “Can’t we be friends? I mean, Hazel is my best friend, and Luna is a small town, and we can’t avoid each other. This war between us is exhausting, don’t you think?”
His silent study revealed none of his thoughts. Well, notnone. He wasn’t approving, that was for sure. But he wasn’t stomping out, angry and intimidating.
“Friends?” His low voice held zero certainty. “You think that’s possible?”
“I hope so, Hunt. We used to be best friends.”
Best friends who’d fallen in love. Who had promised forever. There was no going back to that, and she didn’t expect it. But something a little more comfortable—and little warmer—than this?
Hunter finished putting on his jacket. He visibly swallowed and scratched his hair behind his right ear. “Okay, Janie.”
She stared at him, not sure what was worse—his flat voice or the fact that he’d just lied to her face. But he didn’t linger long enough to work that out. Instead, he mumbled “Thanks for working with me on this” and took himself out the way he’d come in.
Once again Janie didn’t know if she wanted to cry or stomp in frustration.
Twenty
“HunterWallace,right?”PastorDunham stood beside the table at the café’s big window, nearer to Bennett than to Hunter.
