Page 17 of A Recipe Called Home

“You’re a good granddaughter. I know Rosa probably doesn’t say it often, but boy, howdy, does she love you! You’re all she ever talks about. To her, you hang the moon.”

Jules’ cheeks immediately flared, turning several shades of red. She was never good at receiving compliments. Looking at her feet, she mumbled a swift, “Thanks,” before climbing back into the truck.

Back home, Miles insisted on walking her to the door again. The sun was sliding fast behind the horizon, casting long dark shadows across the front lawn. The porch lights were on, welcoming them. At the door, they both lingered, waiting for words to find their way into the night.

Hands in his pockets, Miles looked directly at Jules. “He sounds like a weak man.”

“Who?”

“Luke. He should have fought for you. What a stupid man to let you go that easily.”

“He wasn’t weak or stupid,” Jules said in an almost whisper.

“Yes, he was. I’d know. I was, too.” Jules’ eyes flicked straight up to meet his. They held another long stare, warmth rippling through her body. She could hear her heart beating heavily and his breathing picked up pace.

Closing the space between them, he slid his hand gently up against her cheek, cupping her face in his hand. Instinctively, Jules closed her eyes as she tipped her head back, feeling the warmth of his lips meet hers. At first, the kiss was soft, probing. Neither of them sure. But after a few seconds, she wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed against each other and the hesitation faded, leaving only passion and hunger. As the kiss deepened, Jules melted into him, feeling his strong chest muscles against her soft body. He tasted the same as he always had, like mint from the gum he often chewed. The kiss felt so familiar, yet entirely new at the same time; he’d grown into a man since the last time they did this. Time had been a kind teacher.

At the sound of her purse falling from her arm and dropping at her feet, Jules suddenly realized they were still on her grandma’s front porch. Pulling back from Miles, the cool air sucker-punched her body as her lips went numb, tingling where his just were.

“I’m sorry,” she stumbled, leaning down to grab her purse. “Thanks for fixing the fans and helping me drop off the food.”

Jules flung the door open and walked inside without turning back. Miles called her name, but she didn’t respond, just climbed the stairs up to her room. She needed to be alone. Needed some space to sort out her thoughts.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Jules could hear the low rumble of Miles’ truck pulling away. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over for the first time since they laid her grandpa to rest. Although, this time, not entirely out of sadness.

Exhausted but mind racing, she tried to calm herself. Her entire body slumped, heavy like lead. It felt so good to be in his arms again, to feel him fit perfectly against her. For the briefest of moments, when their lips met, her mind stilled. If only she could be honest with him about what she did years ago, maybe he’d forgive her. Or just as likely, he’d never want to kiss her again.

Chapter 7

"Butterorcreamcheeseon your bagel?" Jules asked Grandma Rosa the next morning.

“Do I look like someone who’s watching their weight? I’ll take both. But it looks likeyoumight need more than a coffee and a bagel to shake those cobwebs loose. Didn’t sleep well?”

“I have a lot on my mind."

Jules sat down, avoiding eye contact. If her grandma knew she’d kissed Miles last night, she didn’t let on. Jules was grateful. She didn’t need to think about it anymore, let alone talk about it.

During the dark depths of the night, she vowed to go against her nature and let things with Miles play out. The last time she tried to control their situation, it didn’t turn out so well. She didn’t want to make that mistake again. And if the time ever felt right, they’d talk about what really happened on prom night, but it didn’t need to be forced. They’d only kissed once since she’d been back; it didn’t mean anything.

“What are your plans for today?” asked Grandma Rosa, placing a bagel spread with a double schmear in front of her.

“Grabbing lunch with Mom. Care to join? We’re going to that Mexican place you love.”

Grandma Rosa shook her head, pursing her lips into a fine line as she refilled her coffee mug. Enough said. Jules dropped the subject.

Flipping her phone over, a text from Winnie popped up:

Heard you had a hot date at the old people’s home last night ;)

Word got around fast in Riverbend. Jules tried to suppress a bashful smile. She’d respond later. Maybe Winnie could help her sort through what happened. Talk some sense into her. But first, food and caffeine. Then shower and lunch with Barb. Jules would most definitely need a strong drink after that, and Winnie could always be counted on for a cheap therapy session over a chilled glass of white.

That afternoon, on the drive to meet her mother, Jules gave herself a needed pep talk. It was just lunch. If she kept the conversation neutral and surface-level only, they could avoid drama and keep lunch short.

Pulling up to the restaurant, Jules saw the old Honda already parked in front, which shocked her. They’d always joked that Barb would be late to her own funeral.

The dated yet colorful building had red painted arches over each window and playful colored paper lanterns hanging in the front entrance. Barb sat at a round two-top in the front just behind the hostess desk, chips and salsa already on the table.

“You made it!” she shouted, standing for a hug as Jules walked in.

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