Following the usual goodbyes, she rang off and pushed a thumb and forefinger against her eye sockets. The headache was worse.
Sloan’s hard-as-steel voice jolted her. “Don’t you ever go home?”
Annie looked up to find him lounging against the entry to the kitchen. He wore frayed blue jeans with a giant hole in one knee and a sweaty green T-shirt minus any sleeves.
“Do you always have to look disreputable?”
“Clothes make the man.” He flashed a set of white teeth and shoved off the door frame to indicate the fresh garden vegetables piled on the butcher-block counter. “Where did the squash come from?”
“Neighbors with bounty.” She swept a hand toward the fridge. “You should look in there.”
“Nice of them.” He sauntered to the counter and picked up a yellow crook-necked squash. “I haven’t had any fried squash since—well, in a long time.”
“Now you can have all you want.”
“Only if I can talk you into cooking it. I never quite got the hang of frying anything. Do you know how?”
“This is Oklahoma, Sloan. Of course I know how, except I don’t because Lydia loves fried foods and she can’t have them.”
He frowned. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.” He put the squash back on the counter. “Why are you still here?”
“Lydia had too many visitors today.” In spite of herself Annie got out a bowl and knife, took the squash and began slicing. “I fell behind.”
Sloan leaned a hip on the counter, standing too close for comfort. “What are you doing with that squash?”
“Frying it.”
“Yeah? For me?” He sounded pleased. Surprised, too. Well, he should be. She certainly was.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. Lydia’s asleep already. There are a few cucumbers and new potatoes. Want some of those, too?”
She didn’t know why she felt compelled to prepare a meal for Sloan, but when he’d put Lydia’s interests first without argument, some of the ice around her heart had melted. He loved Lydia even if he hadn’t been around.
Sloan’s face erupted in a smile. Annie’s pulse skidded like tires on hot pavement. She reined in the forbidden reaction with a vicious whack at the innocent squash.
“Got any corn on the cob?” he asked.
“Sorry.”
“Too bad.” He brushed past her to the refrigerator, took out a cucumber and a red, ripe tomato. “I could see how tired she was, but she loves company. Always did.”
Annie stopped slicing and rested the heel of her hand against the bowl. “Remember when we were kids, how Lydia would invite everyone over on summer nights to roast wieners and marshmallows?”
“I must have sharpened a million hickory sticks with my pocket knife.” A dish rattled as he placed it on the counter next to her and began slicing the cucumber. The fresh, green scent rose between them.
“And after dark, we’d chase lightning bugs.”
Sloan pumped his eyebrows. “And each other.”
She laughed and pointed the knife at him, surprised to be able to relax this much. “That was when we were older.”
“Really old, like thirteen or something.” His twinkling eyes captured hers and she knew they were sharing the same memory. They were barely teens the first time he’d kissed her. Playing tag, she’d chased him around the big house into the dark area between the porch and gardens. He’d hidden, catching her by the arm as she’d raced by, yelling his name. The kiss had been short, sweet and innocent. Unlike their later relationship. And it was that later relationship—fueled by her father’s objection to her dating “that Hawkins boy”—that remained between them unresolved.
She turned away from those dazzling blue eyes to reach for the flour canister. Thinking about a first kiss or any kiss with Sloan was dangerous ground.
After battering the thin yellow slices, she poured oil in a skillet and set it to heat. As she moved around the country kitchen, Sloan seemed always in the way. They bumped and jostled until she told him to sit down and let her do the cooking.
He didn’t. Typical Sloan. Tell him he couldn’t do something and he would die trying. He sliced the vegetables, scrubbed the potatoes, set the table with two plates, and when she protested, he just shrugged. Sloan Hawkins was pretty handy in the kitchen, which meant he’d done his own cooking. Was there not a woman in the picture?
“Your dinner is ready,” she said, setting the golden squash and a plate of cold ham slices on the table.
“Yours, too.” He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, waiting for her to be seated.
Fighting an unwelcome rush of attraction, she said, “I really should go.”
“Come on, Annie. It’s only a meal. I know you haven’t eaten.”
When he put it that way, she felt foolish for refusing. It was only a meal and she was an adult, not some silly teenager. Justin had ball practice until dark and Mother was thrilled to have Delaney. Eating alone at home was depressing anyway. “Well, all right.”
After an uncomfortable moment when she’d said grace and felt him staring at her the whole time, they began to eat.
“When did you get religious, Annie?” he asked, forking one of the crispy squash.
She didn’t consider herself religious, per se. The word made her think of the scribes and Pharisees who’d condemned Christ. “I committed to Christ a few years ago, if that’s what you mean. I was trying to make sense out of life, and God offered a hope I didn’t have.”
“Simple as that?”
“Faith is simple. God is good and loving, and without Him we’re a mess.” She laughed softly. “Sometimes I’m still a mess.”
“Human nature is a mess,” he said and popped a buttery new potato in his mouth. “Man, that’s good. You can’t buy that flavor in a store.”
“Lydia has good friends. This time of year, the gardeners keep us all in great-tasting produce.”
“I don’t remember Redemption as being that generous.”
“Because your view is skewed. Redemption is a wonderful town, filled with decent, honorable people.”
He scowled at a tomato slice. “Not everyone.”
“No, but most. When Joey left, I was devastated and humiliated. I’m sure a few gossips had a field day, but for the most part this little town wrapped its arms around me and helped me keep going when I wanted to give up.”
“What happened? With Joey, I mean?”
Her heart lurched. Sloan didn’t know it, but he was treading on dangerous ground. “Half the marriages in this country end in divorce.”
“That’s an excuse, not an answer.”
“I could say it’s none of your business.”
“You could.” He didn’t seem the least bit offended, which was likely the reason she told him.
“Joey got tired of me, tired of the kids, tired of being married. We fought a lot after Delaney was born.” She dropped her gaze to the pretty gold-rimmed china. “He started seeing other