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“It doesn’t matter to me,” Jill said quickly. “Honestly, Slate, it doesn’t.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded, but he wouldn’t look at her. “I know it’ll matter to a lot of people.” He spoke at half the volume he’d been previously. “What did you tell her?”
“I said as long as she didn’t make me bake a peach pie, I’d tell her anything she wanted to know about me and you.” She turned toward him in her seat. “I’ve told my mother about all of my boyfriends. I don’t usually hide things from her.”
“Do you—so it’s important to you what she thinks.”
“Sure,” Jill said, making her voice light. “But, Slate, I’m thirty-three years old. I make my own decisions.”
“Hey, I’m thirty-three too,” he said. “My birthday is in a couple of weeks, actually. So I won’t be for much longer.”
Jill watched him, really wanting to look into the dark depths of his eyes and reassure him that she really didn’t care about his time in prison. She’d known a lot of the men who’d come through the ranch as part of the prison re-entry program, and they all seemed to be ready to make the right changes in their lives.
“What day?” she asked.
“July eleventh,” he said. “You?”
“I just had a birthday in March.”
He nodded, and the conversation lulled again. Jill didn’t mind. She’d tell her mother whatever she wanted to know, and she’d keep dating Slate until something happened to break them up.
A pinch stole through her, and she realized she’d just thought that a relationship with Slate wouldn’t be long-lasting. She frowned at herself, hoping he wouldn’t ask what she was thinking now. He seemed lost inside his own head, and Jill turned to look out her window so he couldn’t see her face.
Haven had told her once that she wore everything she was feeling and thinking in her eyes, and she really needed to learn how to mask over it. Jill had ignored her sister on that one, something that had become easier and easier as their lives diverged and went different ways.
Slate pulled up to a restaurant Jill hadn’t tried before. “Dallas and Nate say this is a good place,” he said, peering up at the sign. Red Light Ravioli bore a semi-cartoonish sign, and Jill did love good pasta.
“I’m sure it is, then,” she said, reaching to unbuckle her seat belt. She dropped her phone on the floor just as Slate slid out of the truck, and she took a few extra seconds to feel around for it before she found it.
In the console next to her, his phone chimed, and Jill reached for it too. Surely he wouldn’t want to leave it in the truck, which would be close to the temperature of the sun by the time they finished lunch. A text from Luke sat on the screen, which wasn’t locked.
I’ve found an amazing cabinetmaker looking for apprentices. I have a call scheduled with him at six-thirty tonight. He’s willing to talk to you too.
As Jill read and tried to absorb what the message meant, another one came in.
He’s out of Lubbock, but he sells to furniture stores and general contractors all over Texas. This could be HUGE, Slate.
She dropped his phone back into the cupholder as he opened the door. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” she said quickly, averting her eyes. “I just dropped my phone.”
“Oh, my phone.” He patted his pockets, front and back, before reaching for the device in the cupholder.
Jill got out of the truck, her legs shaking slightly. He wasn’t going to stay at Hope Eternal Ranch. He and Luke were making plans to leave, to find other opportunities, to move on.
Of course he is, she told herself. Until Nate, every single man who’d come to the ranch from the re-entry program moved on. None of them stayed.
Foolishness raced through her, making the sunshine almost cold. Slate reached for her hand, and she barely felt his skin against hers. He said something, but the sound warbled and warped.
He opened the door ahead of her and waited for her to go in. She looked at him, trying to find the truth on his face. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She marched ahead of him, her nerves buzzing and her stomach vibrating. It was a couple of texts, taken out of context. Surely he’d tell her if he was planning to leave the ranch in a few weeks.
Don’t accuse him, she coached herself. His words from the day of the wedding ran through her mind.For you, Jill. I’ll stay.
He’d probably just been hormonal. Reacting to that human touch he hadn’t had in such a long time. Something. Because now, a little over a week later, he was talking to Luke about leaving.
“Two, please,” he said to the hostess, and she took them to a table in the corner. It was dark inside, and cool, and if Jill hadn’t seen those texts, she’d be enthralled with the place. She put on a good show of saying how cozy it was, and looking at the menu with all the different types of ravioli.
