Page 87 of Hand Picked
Coincidentally, it was also my favorite time to visit him.
“Webb, honey! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Katey gave me a flirtatious little smile, tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and leaned her forearms against the hostess stand. “How’re things?”
I had no idea how to answer that. “Good, I guess. Busy.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Not really. It’s mostly, um…” I pondered the things that had occupied my time for the past month. Figuring out I was bisexual, getting accidentally handfasted, sorting out Aiden’s custody situation. “Muriel’s getting ready to calve,” I said out loud.
“Ah.” She gave me a bewildered look. “Well, I don’t know much about cows, but if I can help with anything—”
“That’s sweet,” I began, moving toward the swinging door that led to the kitchen. “But I don’t—” I stopped short and turned back to her as a thought occurred to me. “Oh! Actually, you know what? Thereisone thing.”
“Name it!”
“Maybe you could listen a little more closely when Luke orders breakfast from now on.”
“Huh?”
“I know, he’s really tough to understand with his North Carolina accent,” I said sympathetically, lying through my teeth since the only time I’d ever heard Luke speak with any discernible accent had been the morning he’d defended Aiden… and that had been so freakin’ hot, I’d’ve loved for him to “y’all” me all day long. “He’s real sensitive about it,” I continued. “About being an outsider. And I know you’re such a sweet person, you’d hate to think he was feeling that way.”
“I… I would,” she agreed. “Does he really feel that way?”
I nodded sadly. “Sometimes, I’m afraid. But anyway, now I know you’ll help, at least.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll… I’ll do that, Webb. And I hope I haven’t made him feel bad in the past when I, uh… didn’t understand him. I’ve always sorta really liked Luke.”
I grinned. “I bet you have. He’s a great guy, Katey.”
One who deserved to be treated well… especially since his fake betrothed kept trampling all over his feelings.
I pushed through the double door into the kitchen area and found Jack standing alone by the gleaming metal prep table, chopping something green, with a black cap pulled over his fair hair.
“Hey,” I called softly. I grabbed the backless stool he kept in the corner so I could sit and watch him cook—the stool he unofficially called “the Sunday stool,” since as far as I knew, Hawk and I were the only ones he allowed back here while he was experimenting—and carried it closer to the table.
Jack didn’t look up, and the blade of his knife continued to rock through a pile of herbs, turning them to… well, mush.
“Uh. Jack?” I demanded.
“Huh?” He sucked in a startled breath and set down his knife. “Oh, shit. Hey. I didn’t hear you.”
I looked from the herbs to Jack, then from Jack to the herbs. I imagined I’d just discovered Jack’s version of my ax and chopping block.
I thought about what mademechop furiously and wondered if it were possible…
“Did you, um…” I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Were you having any… Do you want to… talk? About… Fuck, I don’t know.” I felt my face go hot. “Relationships or anything?”
“Arelationship?” Jack scoffed. “Me?Pfft. With who? For what?” He shuddered. “A mutual distrust of relationships is the cornerstone of our friendship, Webb Sunday. That’s why you and I have never become the Hollow’s most scorching power couple.”
I laughed. “That… and the fact that I thought I was straight until two weeks ago,” I reminded him. “Oh, and that we’re not attracted to each other in any way.”
“Well, okay, yes, all those things, too,” he conceded with a smirk. “But Jesus. Friends don’t accuse friends of having relationship drama out of a clear blue sky. That’s cold.”
“Alright, alright.” I held up a hand for peace. “I’m just starting to recognize uncontrolled chopping as a sign of distress, that’s all. I thought I’d see if I could, you know… listen. As a friend.”
Jack pressed his lips together. “Wow. That’s a sign of true friendship, right there, because you’d rather give me a kidney than talk feelings, wouldn’t you?”
His wall oven beeped, and he grabbed a kitchen towel to remove a pan of something delicious-smelling.
