Page 39 of To Belong Together
“Yeah, and I think he’s pretty much over it, so I was going to put the cone back on and leave.” She sheepishly lifted her gaze. “This will be done in a minute. Nothing to it.” She tilted the handle of the spoon toward him.
He took over stirring. “Might as well stay and have some.”
She eyed him, the soup, and him again. “Are you sure?”
“You earned it.” And then some. Gannon had said something about Erin’s actions proving her motives were good. Treating his dogs so well added more points in her favor, and her willingness to leave only increased how much he wanted her to stay.
One canof chicken noodle soup didn’t go far. While Erin cut the bread into thick slices, John split soup between two bowls. She pulled her chair up to the table and inhaled the steam. Mom’s homemade version smelled better, but this wasn’t bad.
He set two glasses on the table—water at her request, milk for himself—then sat across from her.
“Do you pray?” She would guess he did because Gannon had said faith was important to him when they’d seen each other at the accident site, but John didn’t seem like the type who would appreciate her relying on second-hand information.
He bowed his head. “Father, please bless this food. Thank you for Erin and her willingness to help. Amen.”
She fought a laugh. Short and to the point. Whatever talkativeness Gannon had referred to must’ve faded.
She selected a piece of bread and spread on butter. “Couldn’t have been comfortable on the floor, but you look a lot better.”
“I’m sure it’ll pass.”
Self-deprecating, but also a deflection. How would she get him past his short answers? She stirred her soup. “I meant to be the type of person who could take a no, but my uncle insisted I couldn’t be.”
John’s eyes fixed on her, his blue irises seeming to darken with intensity.
“He wants your business back.”
He exhaled, rubbed the good side of his forehead, and lowered his gaze as if she’d announced Camo had run away and joined the circus.
He was that disappointed at the suggestion that her presence might be all business?
“But that’s not really why I’m here.”
He ate without goading her into continuing, but she’d never been that good at being quiet. Besides, she couldn’t leave him feeling as dejected as he looked.
“I needed to find out for myself how you’re doing. After I saw your car and that tree … I feel awful that I’m the reason you went to Rodney’s in the first place.”
“You did warn me.”
“I’m sorry I brought all this on you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Right. I heard you tell your mom. But you can’t drive, you have a broken arm, a battered face, a hurt dog, probably a pounding head. You fell asleep on the floor, dead to the world for hours. You’re not fine. You’re just too stubborn to admit it. It’s a wonder you called 911 that night and told them you’d been in a wreck.”
A smile edged onto his lips. “I didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Call them.” He drained all the broth from his spoon and ate a mouthful of carrots, noodles, and chicken. “The car did.”
“You’re proving my point. You realize that.”
Mischief played at his eyes. “I was unconscious.” He obviously expected sympathy for that, and he deserved some, but two could play this game.
“You’re conscious now, and you’re still not saying much. What would we have talked about on that coffee date?”
“Never had to worry about it.”
