She had barely opened her car door when she saw Miss Janet speed-walking over. Her floral dress stretched across her chest and swayed like a dance as she huffed to a stop.
“Sadie Revelare, you got those pies?” Miss Janet was in charge of the kitchen, which meant she handled the roster for who brought what refreshments for the coffee stand.
“Right here,” Sadie answered, reaching into the backseat and grabbing the three boxes.
“Good, good. Walk with me,” Janet demanded, and started off at a steady clip. “Now, you cut those pies and put them on individual plates. We don’t want everybody making a mess and getting their dirty fingers all over the place. And don’t make the slices too big, mind you,” she said, her mouth running faster than a motorboat. “And have you thought about your booth for the Fall Festival? You know I need the forms by the end of the week. Oh, and this is Jake—he’ll be helping you in the kitchen this morning,” Miss Janet finished as they entered the long galley. “I’m off to set up the coffee urns. Be quick about your work, child—we don’t have much time.”
Sadie blanched as she saw Jake standing in the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist. His dark jeans were ten times nicer than anything he used to wear, and his freshly pressed button-down shirt was the perfect shade of blue to set off his eyes. The slim fit of both made Sadie think of things she was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to think about in church.
Damn him. How was he everywhere?
She cast her eyes for something to land on. Anything other than staring at his hands on the counter. The hands that had once trailed up her inner thigh, the callouses snagging at her soft skin. The fingers that … No. Find something else to focus on, you dirty trollop, she scolded herself, feeling the heat that rushed her cheeks. Her eyes traveled the kitchen, which was dated but sparkling clean, with the strong chemical smell of Lysol. As the door swung shut, it blocked out the sound of the worship pastor’s acoustic guitar. The only noise was the hum from the giant, ancient refrigerator.
“That woman should consider coming up for a breath of air once in a while. Do you know she actually inspected my hands after I washed them?” he said with mock incredulousness.
“What are you doing here?” Sadie asked, regretting how stupid the words sounded as soon as they fell from her lips. It seemed to be the only thing she could find to say to him these days.
“‘Do you mean in a metaphorical sense?”
“I mean in the ‘what are you doing here in this kitchen, serving at church, you pain in the ass’ sense.”
“Watch it, dirty mouth! God might smite you down.”
“If anyone’s going to be doing any smiting, it’ll be me,” Sadie mumbled. She avoided his gaze and instead made quick work of opening the boxes and getting out the pies.
“I volunteered,” Jake said, setting out paper plates. “I came by last week and talked to Pastor Jay. It was nice. We spent an hour catching up. I told him about my mom buying a vacation house in Florida and what Jessie was up to. It’s nice being in a small town again. Where people care.”
“How is Jessie?” Sadie asked with warmth in her voice this time. Jessie, just as much of a spitfire as her brother, and probably even more reckless, had always made Sadie laugh.
“She’s a real estate agent in New York,” he said with pride.
“Damn,” Sadie breathed. “New York? I can’t imagine. I’ve never even left Poppy Meadows.”
“Wait, seriously?” Jake asked with a furrowed brow. “Never?” His body had stilled, his big hands laid flat on the metal counter, his whole countenance focused on Sadie. She swallowed hard.
“I mean, I’ve been a couple counties over.” She shrugged, trying to make it look casual. “But I love it here. I’ve never felt the need to leave.” She gave him a pointed look.
“Poppy Meadows is great, but there’s a whole world out there, Sade,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, you would say that,” she snorted.
“We’re not all like the great Sadie Revelare. Some of us have to figure out what we want,” he said.
She thought about telling him that knowing what you want is its own kind of curse. Because when else are you so aware that you’re never going to get it? Not knowing meant possibility and dreaming and hopes. Instead, she looked away from those piercing eyes.
“Dish,” she ordered, sliding the cut pie toward him. “And don’t mangle it, or I’ll be forced to harm you.”