Page 38 of The Wedding Gift

“I’ll have a pulled-pork sandwich, baked beans, coleslaw and potato salad, and a glass of sweet tea,” Jorja said.

“That was quick,” Cameron said.

“I don’t want to spend my whole hour looking at themenu,” she told him. “I want to take time to enjoy every bite of my food.”

“I’ll have the dinner plate with everything she said, except I want half a rack of ribs.” He handed the lady the menus and turned his attention back to Jorja. “I’ll share my ribs if you’ll give me half your sandwich. Both sounded good.”

“Are you sure about that? Adam sure got in trouble when God took one of his ribs to make a woman,” Jorja teased.

“I’ll take my chances.” He chuckled.

She unwrapped the napkin from around her silverware and picked up the fork. “If you’re that brave, then yes, I will share with you, but I’m warnin’ you, I do not share my fried chicken legs with anyone.” She accentuated every single word with a jab of her fork.

“No worries, darlin’.” He grinned. “These folks are out of chicken—and I’m a breast man so I’m not interested in legs anyway.”

Jorja could feel the heat rising on her neck. There was no way she could prevent it from reaching her face, but she’d be damned if she let Cameron get ahead of her. “You’re a lucky man since a chicken has two breasts.”

“I’ve always been a lucky cowboy.” He winked.

“Always might fail you in the future.” She fluffed out the oversize red napkin and put it in her lap.

“I hope not.” A wide grin covered his face.

The waitress brought their tea and a basket of hot rolls and set them down on the table. “Be right back with your food.”

“See how lucky I am,” Cameron teased. “We don’t even have to wait an hour to be served.”

“That’s not luck, cowboy,” Jorja argued. “That’s just because everyone else is home with their families today, and we’re probably going to get the last of what’s in the pots, and it won’t be worth eating.”

“The last is always the best,” he said.

“Are we still talking about food?” she asked.

“Of course.” He looked as innocent as a little boy in Sunday school class.

Jorja made a vow never to play poker with him. If he could use his expressions to lie like that, he’d win all her money, or her clothes if they were playing that kind of poker.

The waitress brought their food, and Jorja cut her sandwich in half. She put one part on his plate, forked over two ribs onto her own plate, and then began to eat. “Good ribs and great beans.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed between bites. “We’ll have to come back here again.”

They finished their food, which was exceptionally good,bypassed dessert, and headed straight to Walmart to get their groceries. That took two hours, and half of that time was spent standing in line to check out. All those folks that weren’t at the barbecue place were evidently in Walmart buying food for the next day.

“I’m glad we shopped for two weeks,” she said as they loaded the bags into the back seat of his truck. “I’d hate to do this every single week. It would blow a whole day to drive up here, shop, and then get home in time to open the bar at six.”

“Yep,” he agreed.

The roads had been clear on the way to Mineral Wells, but by the time they started home, they were slick with sleet and ice. Cameron had slowed down to thirty miles an hour when she saw the bull and cow right across a barbed wire fence.

“You’ve got to start believing in signs,” she told him.

“Why?” He kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes straight ahead.

“Take a look to your right,” she answered him. “And they’ve even got bells around their necks. Dogs with antlers and now cattle with bells.”

“It’s Christmas,” he said. “Folks do silly things during this season.”

“Possums?” she asked.