Page 55 of Recipe for Rivals
“Nova made lasagna.”I slid my phone into my pocket and looked at my best friend. “She invited both of us to eat with her. It’s a thank you dinner.”
Tucker threw back the rest of his Coke and tossed the can in my recycling bin. “The same woman you’re giving your kitchen table to?”
“I don’t need it, Tuck,” I said defensively. “I live here alone.”
“What about poker?”
“I have a card table in the garage somewhere. I’ll pull it out when it’s my turn to host.”
Tucker’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing.”
He didn’t wipe the suspicion from his face. “I’ve known you too long to be fooled, Dusty.”
My cat slinked from behind the counter and rubbed her back on my calf. I leaned down and picked her up, letting her relax in the crook of my arm.
“Reveille seems to be adjusting well,” Tucker said, crossing his arms with a smirk. He’d left her on my porch as a kitten. Lame prank, if you ask me. I got a cat out of it.
“Don’t swear in my house.”
“Reveille is a perfectly appropriate name,” he argued.
“For an evil mascot, maybe. I told you—her name is Leia.”
“Did your voice just soften?” he asked, his smile widening.
“No.” I put Leia down and watched her scamper to her deluxe cat climbing mansion in the corner of the living room. Yes, maybe I spoiled her. The poor girl was alone here for two days out of every six, and she needed things to occupy herself so she didn’t scratch up my entire house. My grandpa’s old armchair had learned that the hard way. “Let’s get this table outside.”
I moved to one end, ready to lift, but Tucker wasn’t budging from where he’d perched at the edge of the kitchen. “You can’t distract me that easily.”
I dropped my head back and sighed. “She just got divorced, and she has two kids. I’m not messing with her.”
“Of course you aren’t. You’re better than that.”
“Can we move the table now?”
“If you don’t want to date her, whatdoyou want?”
My stomach dipped. “Nothing. I’m just being a good neighbor. She’s new in town and needs things. I have too many things. It’s basic math.”
Tucker watched me another moment before moving to the other end of the table. Before he lifted, though, he gave me a searching gaze. “We both know you’ve never been very good at math.”
Translation: I’d never been good at staying away from women. That had been true in the past; my string of girlfriends since high school proved it. But things had been different since I’d sent Grandpa to live at Pleasant Gardens. Hadn’t my consistent rejection of Gracie Mae proved I’d changed? If I was the same old Dusty, I would be taking advantage of her interest in me.
Instead, I didn’t see things going anywhere with Gracie Mae,so I didn’t string her along. She was stringing herself along behind me, and I didn’t quite know how to get across to her that she was wasting her time. I’d tried to no avail.
Tucker and I got the table and chairs and Grandpa’s old dresser—it was the nicest of the three I had—into the back of our trucks, then drove to Nova’s apartment. I’d snagged the rest of the bread I’d made yesterday before we left, hoping it was okay that it had a few slices cut off one end.
Her place smelled rich and heavenly, the air full of garlic and onion and tomatoes. Tucker helped me carry the furniture into her room and the dining area, then we all brought up the chairs. It was amazing how the few small additions made the place less sterile and more livable. Having a place to sit was a game changer.
How many weeks had she lived here now? Way too many to be sitting on stools and mattresses only.
“June’s waiting for me with my parents at the homestead,” Tucker said. “But thanks for the invitation.”
“Anytime. I’ll bake you something instead. What do you like?”
“Sugar,” I told her. “Tuck will eat anything with sugar.”