Page 101 of Recipe for Rivals

Which meant I could enjoy?—

Ding. The doorbell went off, making my heart hammer in my ears. I checked my breath with a shaky hand.Okay, calm down, Nova. Dusty wouldn’t be jumping me the moment I opened the door. If I decided to kiss him good night, that was hours away. Besides, he might not even want that, which would mean I was FREAKING OUT for no reason.

But could you blame me? I hadn’t had a first kiss in eleven years.

I swung the door open, a smile plastered on my face. Dusty stood there, backlit by the late afternoon sun. When his honey-colored eyes fell on me, comfort swooped through my body at once, driving away my anxiety and doubts. His smile was soft, spreading as he took me in. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” I picked up my purse and shrugged my jacket on, then followed him out to his truck. “Where are we eating?”

“Casa de la Hayes.”

“You cooked?” I asked, climbing into the front seat and buckling in. “I could have driven to you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I had to drop off some things at the high school, anyway.” His smile lingered on me, the silence in the car growing thick. He seemed to shake himself loose and pulled onto the road. “Did you have a good day?”

It was weird how easy our conversation was, like we’d known each other for years. I sank into my seat, comfortable with him, and we talked about the park I’d found that morning with the kids.

When he pulled onto the road that led out of town, I watched the cars passing us.

“Have you gone running yet?” he asked.

“No, but I might try this week. It’s warm enough now I don’t think I’ll freeze before I hit the end of the block.” I shot him a sheepish smile. “You’re right. It wouldn’t hurt to do something for me.”

“You can borrow gloves, if you need them.”

“Maybe.” We waited at a stoplight, and I looked in the car turning onto our road. My stomach lurched at the familiarity of the man in the silver sedan—dark blond hair and a sharp jawline. It couldn’t be Carter. There was no way. I lifted from my seat, craning over Dusty to get a better look as the car drove by, but that didn’t make me feel any calmer. Even from the back, it had looked like my ex.

That was crazy. Carter wouldn’t even take off enough time from work to take the kids to Disney World. There was no way he’d just show up here, after we were divorced, with nothing to gain. That wasn’t in his nature.

“What’s wrong?” Dusty asked.

For a split second, I debated telling him but thought better of it. It wouldn’t do either of us any good if I mentioned Carter. Dusty and I deserved an ex-free evening. Besides, it couldn’t have been him. Carter would never drive what he deemed a boring sedan, not even a rental.

“Thought I saw a ghost,” I said, flashing him a smile.

When we pulled up to his farmhouse, it was definite love at first sight. A water tower was visible in the distance, but between that and Dusty’s two-story farmhouse with its wraparound porch was a barn and fields of open space. Those feelings I’d had at the Homestead during June’s bridal shower came back in full force, like I could picture a happy life here. It scared and strengthened me at the same time, the idea that I could find happiness. Things could be even better here if I let them.

“Most of this isn’t our land,” Dusty said, like he needed to disabuse me of the idea that he was some farmer baron. “But we have an acre.”

His use of the wordwemade my heart flutter, knowing he considered it his family house still. “How is your grandpa doing?”

“He’s in and out,” Dusty said. “Wait, don’t move.” He jumped down from the truck and ran around to open my door.

I tried not to love it, but I really, really did.

We walked up to the porch and he took me around it to the back. A table was set up on the deck with a view of the sunset. Lights were strung from the deck to the nearby trees, throwing soft light over us. Pink clouds snaked across the sky in puffy tufts, mixing with pale blue and looking like cotton candy. I wanted to take a mental snapshot of this scene and keep it forever.

A high-pitched buzzing sound came from the grass and Dusty looked at me. “Cicadas.”

“Sounds evil.”

“They look evil, for sure, but they’re harmless. You’ll probably get used to them.”

“Wait…now I need to see one.”

Dusty pointed to where a brown shell of a bug was stuck to the rail of his porch. “That’s a husk. The live ones are a little better.”

I shuddered. “Gross.” Maybe that’s what I should changeCarter’s picture to. It looked like a bug straight from the devil’s garden.

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