Page 23 of Honeycombs & Homecomings

He’d wanted to look at her, but looking at her sent his mind into a jumble and made him forget all the reasons he’d come here—to relax, forget his issues, and figure out what the next step in his life would be. Taking on her problems wouldn’t give him the reprieve he needed, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. He’d been home less than twenty-four hours and already, he could feel them gravitating to one another like they had all those years ago, and he was going home Friday. He stood and fiddled with the deadbolt. “You’re all set.” He cleared his throat. “I better be heading—”

He turned, and before he could finish his thought, she threw her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Cash.”

The bell over the front door chimed, and she jolted away from him as quickly as she’d hugged him. She rushed to the front, stopping in the hall that led to the office, and glanced at him. “When are you leaving?”

“Friday night.”

She nodded. “Have a great rest of your trip.”

Then she was gone.

That was when he’d breathed again. He hadn’t even realized he’d held his breath until she was gone. And he hadn’t breathed easily since he’d left. That had been around ten yesterday morning.

Now, in the parking lot of the small store in Charleston, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was some way he could run into her again today. He quickly shook off the thought as he made his way inside and down the aisles.

He pulled out the list he made in his car before heading over. He wanted to make dinner for his parents tonight, last night they’d gone to the festival, and he’d tried a venison loin that had been so delicious, he was pretty sure his eyes had rolled back into his head, twice, maybe even three times. At first, he’d thought it’d been an ambitious meal for a festival, but it’d smelled so amazing, he’d tried it. He’d also had a mouthwatering maple syrup chocolate chip cookie.

It’d been so long since he’d enjoyed cooking from his home town, and all the amazing things they’d had at the fair, not only ensured he’d be going back for more, but it had gotten his creative juices flowing. In the off moments he got his mind off Jo the night before, he’d thought of that dish, of the maple cookie, then that had led to the thoughts of the honey he’d purchased from her he’d savored on nearly half a loaf of bread that morning. It was so delicious. Of course, that’d had gotten him thinking of her again.

Just as he was now.

Cash made his ways up and down the rows, gathering the items he needed for the meal ideas brewing in his mind. He tried not to think of Jo as he grabbed meat from the deli, randomly deciding to throw in some thinly sliced honey-baked turkey, he tried not to think of her as he grabbed an apple jam, and pawpaw’s butter passing the honeys, many labeledSticky and Sweetand he tried not to think of her as he passed the candy isle and the honey chews, honey caramels, and honey straws there to get to the spices.

By the time he reached the cashier, he realized that not only had he purchased everything he would need for his recipes, but also many of her favorite foods as well. Salmon, deli turkey, bacon, pumpernickel bread, spicy mustard and mayo, tomatoes, lettuce, swiss, muenster, mozzarella, Colby jack, sharp cheddar, and parmesan—woman loved her cheeses—and Red Vines, amongst many other things.

He slouched in line as the cashier started ringing it all up. He had to get his head out of the clouds.

And what was he going to do with all this food?

He paid and shook his head. He knew exactly what he was going to do with that food. He was going to take it to her house and fill her empty fridge that lived in the miniature kitchen upstairs. Maybe that was what he’d intended all along. Then he could leave and really feel like he’d gone above and beyond. He could feel like he’d done enough to help her, and maybe this time he’d believe it.

He loaded the food into the trunk of his vehicle and slammed it shut before heading to the cart return. On his way, he noticed an auction house across the street called Bateman and Stalls. Maybe that’d get his mind off . . . things.

He shoved the cart in the return and jogged across the street.

The auction house was large but nearly empty, with only a few ugly pieces of furniture that looked like they came from someone’s sixties-themed garage sale. A woman Cash recognized but couldn’t put a name to, stood behind two men, who were tilting a desk this way and that as they tried to get it through the doors of what Cash assumed was an office.

“It’s not going to fit,” one man said.

“We’ll make it fit,” the woman said. She yanked at the bottom of her bright pink button-up blouse where it was tucked into her gray skirt, in a show of frustration.

Cash made his way over. “Excuse me?”

The woman turned on him, her furious expression immediately morphing into one of over-friendly professionalism. She must run the auction house with a practiced look like that.

“Welcome to Bateman and Stalls, how can I—” she paused, staring at him in a way that made him want to step back. Not that he would. He was a man, and she was a little older lady with bleached blond hair. He wouldn’t be intimidated.

“Cash!” She squealed and launched herself at him.

He stepped back. Okay, being manly had nothing to do with this. She squeezed him around the middle and he patted her on the back.

She pulled away. “Look at you, you’re all grown up.”

He stared, trying desperately to recall who she was and how he knew her. “Yep.”

She chuckled and released him. “Don’t you recognize me? It’s Millie Douglas. Your mom and I are good friends.”

“Millie?” It rushed back like a steak cooked well that had been requested rare. She used to come over to his house time and again when he was a kid. Although, she’d been a brunette then. His dad had always been grateful to her, because she’d taken some time and attention off him for the time she was there. It’d given him a nice reprieve. And Cash’s mom always seemed a little calmer after she visited. He hadn’t gotten to know her all that well, because he’d spent most of his high school years hiding over at Jo’s house, around her property, or at their tree house.