He took that to mean off limits and changed the subject. “How long have you lived in Bakersville?”
“We moved here when Maddie was four.”
“Why here?”
She spooned more homemade hot relish onto her eggs. “A social worker at the hospital where I worked at the time recommended it. I didn’t want Maddie to grow up in Dallas. Too big. Too noisy.” Clear, observant eyes assessed him. “What about you?”
A sudden tightness in his chest made him freeze for a moment. Face devoid of emotion, he gave an inconsequential shrug. “Foster kid. Moved around a lot. Ended up here when I was fifteen.” He kept his eyes on the food, not wanting to see the pity he knew he would find in her face.
“My dad was adopted.”
Okay. That he did not expect, and he glanced up.
Eyes, a vibrant combination of green, gold, and brown, radiating life, pain, and unquenchable warmth, locked with his. “Someone literally left him on the door step of a half-way house when he was three. Luckily, he ended up with a great family who simply wanted a child to love.” She toyed with the food on her plate. “He died when I was ten. Heart attack. It was just Mom and me for most of my life.”
“Does she live around here?”
The happiness of a moment ago vanished in a heartbeat. “She died when I was nineteen.”
The thought that he caused her pain filled him with regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
She straightened and met his gaze. “There are no bad memories, Max. Not really. I mean there were hard times of course, especially after the accident, but even those memories are special to me.” She paused. “I wish Maddie could have known her.” A genuine smile banished all trace of gloom. “Talk about a spoiled rotten child.”
“I can’t see you letting that happen.”
“I probably let her get away with more than I should.”
“She’s smart as a whip,” said Max. “I sometimes have to remind myself she’s still a kid.”
Sky nodded, pride evident by the gleam in her eye. “The first thing she told me when we moved here was that it was time she learned to read.” She forked a bite of omelet, then held it close to her mouth. “I found some books and taught her.”
“She has an inquisitive nature,” said Max. “I can see her wanting to read.”
Joy bubbled in her voice. “That’s a nice way of saying she asks a lot of questions.”
“Maybe. But they’re good questions.” A cozy glow, like a subdued flame fanned to life by a breeze, grew inside him, and he relished the shared moment. “You’ve done a great job with her. I know it couldn’t have been easy.” At least you tried. Didn’t drop her off at school one day and never looked back.
Golden lashes that shadowed her cheeks jerked upward, accompanied by a timid smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Thankfully, she didn’t ask about his parents, though he intuitively knew she waited for him to talk. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.
Lost in their own thoughts, neither spoke for several moments. Max reached for the jar of hot stuff. “You really should market this, Sky. It’s awesome. Hot as hell but awesome.”
She managed a choking laugh. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it. It’s my mother’s recipe.”
The next hour passed quickly as they finished their meal and talked of trivial things. He insisted on helping with the dishes. Afterwards, they sat back at the table with the last of the coffee in their cups.
“Um, do you, um, have plans for Thanksgiving, Max?”
“Thanksgiving? Already?”
She nodded. “Next week.”
Sky’s simple question gave him pause. Holidays were just another day for him. He’d known people who went all out, but he never had that pleasure. Suddenly, the idea appealed to him. A lot. “No. No plans.”
“Would you, um, like to join us for dinner?”
His mind raced with a myriad of objections. I’m no good for you. I have nothing to offer. I’ll only bring you down. But when he opened his mouth, something entirely different came out. “I’ve never had a real sit-down Thanksgiving dinner. Well, they did stuff for us in the service, but it wasn’t the same.”
Tight features softened, and she visibly relaxed. “I love the holidays. I want Maddie to always have fond memories to look back on.”
An idea formed, and the words came out before he could censor them. “How would you feel about cooking dinner at my house? I mean, you’d have to tell me what I need to buy and all.”
“Well, I—”
“I’ll have to make sure the oven works, though. I’ve never used it.”
“You’ve never used your oven?”
He shrugged. “No point for one person.”
He looked up to find her watching him as she fingered the tiny starfish dangling from a silver chain around her neck. “I haven’t cooked a meal like that in a while.”
“I’m guessing it will take a lot of time and effort on your part. I can’t cook, but I can shop.” His self-deprecating laugh was barely audible. “There is virtually nothing in my kitchen that isn’t fast food related. Other than coffee, of course, so, if you could just make me a list of things I need, I’ll get them.”
Her lips twitched, and a smile threatened. “So, you know how to choose the right turkey? The difference between corn meal and corn bread mix? Jellied cranberry or whole?”
