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“It’s late,” she murmured. “You arrived so early and have been working all day. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

She cringed internally. It was like she was asking him on a date, when she’d just been trying to be…what? Friendly. A solicitous boss? She had a feeling he’d laugh at that description.

“I made a chicken tortilla soup in the Crock-Pot so it’s no trouble,” she rushed, fearing he’d turn her down, and what was that about? The fear was unacceptable. She was Jessica Maye.

Keep telling yourself that.

Jessica Maye with no job and her new business venture partially felled by a late winter storm and years of neglect.

“I have tortilla chips with queso.”

OMG could she sound more desperate? Her lips tilted in a smile. Might as well go all in and admit she not only didn’t want to be alone, she was also backsliding into a stereotypical Southern small-town female—feed the big heap of a man.

But she was also his boss and had promised him breakfast and lunch, so dinner wasn’t a huge step.

As long as it doesn’t become a habit.

“That sounds delicious. Thank you.”

Relief shouldn’t make her knees weak.

*

Dinner was surprisinglycompanionable. Storm made a salad while Jessica had dished out the soup over tortilla chips and queso, and then she’d sprinkled more tortilla chips on top along with salsa.

“Meghan made the salsa,” she said when he commented on it. “I planted several varieties of tomatoes, and they grew like weeds. We had such a bounty that she made salsa, and I made spaghetti sauce that I shared with my sisters and friends.”

Jessica dished more salsa into a bowl and put it on the eating nook table. Sitting in the large formal dining room would have felt weird with just her and Storm.

“This past summer Meghan stayed quite a few weekends when she wasn’t traveling for work, and it was so much fun. She loves to make sauces but hardly has any time, but we looked up a lot of canning recipes online, and this spring and summer, I’m hoping to have quite the thriving vegetable garden. Maybe we can donate some to the food bank.”

“And sell in the nursery. You could provide recipe cards—show customers what they can do buying food-producing plants or edible plants like herbs if you’re going in that direction.”

“Here comes the marketing whiz again,” she said.

“I hope so,” he said quietly. “As I will have to market my own services and business.”

She looked at him chopping mini peppers for the salad, radiating energy that lit up the room. Even watching him ‘steal’ and chew a snuck piece of red pepper was sexy. How had she dismissed such an appealing, confident and can-do man?

“Vegetables and harvest, canning and pickling are a lot of work,” he noted.

She nodded. Meghan had said she’d help, but who knew what kind of a large case or complicated client she could be assigned. Plus she traveled. No, whatever she started she had to be able to do on her own.

“Have you thought about the staff you’ll need to run this place?”

She stiffened defensively.

“Jay.” He covered her hand as she went to withdraw it from the table to the safety of her pocket. “Just spitballing. You need to dream big, but also see the steps to get there.”

He released her and washed his hands again. He carried the salad to the table and she followed with the bowls of soup and the condiments—salsa, guac, tortilla chips.

She wondered if lighting a candle would make it seem like a date. Already she felt a little awkward, like she was trying too hard.

He’s a friend. Just a friend.

They sat and Jessica said a short grace. Storm bowed his head, and it took all her willpower to not peek at him.

He dipped a chip in the salsa. “This is delicious,” he said after swallowing. “Really it’s an internet recipe, not one from that mysterious book you keep trying to hide?”