“Yep, we are, and I for one am a hungry misfit. Want to share that cobbler we brought from Flossie’s yesterday? We could heat it up and top it off with ice cream.”

He stood up and offered her a hand. “Sounds great. And thanks for listenin’.”

She took it and popped up to her feet. “That goes both ways. Sometimes we just need to get things off our chests.” Chemistry sparked when he touched her, making her pulse race. “I talked to Aunt Sugar this morning. They’re having a great time. You should sit in on her next call. She wants me to send pictures of us, not just the work we’re doing. I thought maybe when we got into painting, we’d send one of us in our work clothes. Maybe we can even FaceTime and actually give her a tour of what’s going on rather than just pictures.”

Jolene talked too much and too fast for two reasons—either she was in trouble or she was running from her emotions. Right then, it was definitely the latter.

In mandatory therapy, Tucker would sit on the comfortable sofa and tell the guy what he needed to hear. He’d had to see him several times after Melanie’s death. He’d been so full of rage and so self-destructive that he was put on desk duty. That’s when he started drinking, and the last straw was when he had that little fender bender in his work car. He didn’t pass the Breathalyzer test, and the doc said he wouldn’t sign papers even for desk duty unless Tucker went to rehab.

But that morning, he felt better than he’d ever felt when he went to a therapist. Usually even the mention of Melanie’s name made him want to drink. They walked back to the house together, past the trailer where he always had a bottle of whiskey, but the longing for a shot was gone.

They were close enough that their hands brushed several times. He couldn’t deny that there were vibes, but until he was ready to close the door to the past, he couldn’t do anything about the attraction. He’d wanted to kiss Jolene so badly back there under that tree, and even now, when he glanced over at her lips, he wanted to take her in his arms. But again, he had issues to take care of before that could happen.

When they reached the house, he held the door for her to enter before him. She removed her coat and headed straight for the kitchen. He did the same and got out the ice cream while she warmed the cobbler.

Food and work provided an escape after an emotional talk like they’d just had. Would it always be that way? Would they, someday in the future, really start a relationship? He was still wondering what that would be like with Jolene when she poked him on the arm.

“So?” she asked.

“So what?” He frowned.

“What were you thinkin’ about? You didn’t even hear me talkin’, did you?”

“Nope. I was woolgathering. Tell me again,” he said.

“I was asking you if you’ll talk to Aunt Sugar with me. You can explain all the carpentry stuff a lot better than I can, and besides, it might do both of you good to get to know each other. This wasn’t just her business. It was her lifetime home.” She took two bowls from the cabinet and set them on the table.

He got out two spoons and the ice cream scoop. “Sure. Be glad to do that.”

“Both Uncle Jasper and Aunt Sugar were so disappointed in Reuben that it’ll be positive for them to see that the inn is in good hands,” she said.

“You think they’re kind of mad at me for buying him out? If I hadn’t stepped up and got it the day after he put it on the market, he might have changed his mind,” Tucker said.

She pulled the cobbler from the microwave. “I doubt that, but it is what it is.”

He divided the cobbler into two portions and put them into bowls. She added the ice cream and carried hers to the table. He joined her and put the first bite of cobbler into his mouth. “This is better than it was yesterday.”

Before she could argue with him, there was a rap on the door and Dotty yelled, “Yoo-hoo, I’m comin’ in. If you ain’t decent, you better hide behind a chair.”

“I’m just glad I’m decent. I don’t think there’s a chair big enough to hide me,” Tucker said.

“Little egotistical there?” Jolene raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t talking about . . .” She hadn’t seen a man blush in years.

“Talkin’ about what?” Dotty draped her coat over a chair and sat down. “Got coffee made? If not, I’ll have tea. I’m going to an estate sale that starts at eleven. They’ve got an old jukebox I want for the bar. It actually plays real records and might defend us from that damn karaoke.”

Jolene cocked her head to one side. “Karaoke?”

“Thursday nights when you’re not there. Bruce started it against my wishes, and I didn’t know how to stop it once he was gone,” Dotty said. “Listenin’ to drunk people sing drives me crazy.”

Jolene remembered her mother staggering through the door singing some song that she’d performed on karaoke night at a bar. Elaine had a voice like a screech owl when she tried to sing. Jolene had thought at the time that she was so glad she hadn’t been there to see her mama make a fool out of herself on a stage.

“Y’all want to go with me?” Dotty asked.

“You go, Jolene. I should stay here and get some bedding and taping—” Tucker started.

Dotty reached across the table and patted him on the cheek. “You are your own boss now.”