arm as she rearranged her red curls and looked away, nibbling on her upper lip.
Chance glanced in the direction of the big guy. Yep, he was still ogling her. “Would you like me to say something to him, Dakota?”
“No. It’s okay.” The words machine-gunned from her mouth.
He studied her. Visibly shaken, nervous, and uncomfortable, and doing everything in her power to hide it.
“What questions did you want to ask?” She picked up her water glass and sipped, her face still partially hidden from view behind her left hand.
“Uh, yeah. The other day at Andy’s office you indicated that you have a job?”
She nodded and sat her glass on the table. “Yes, I’m a writer.”
His eyebrows scurried up his forehead. Wow, he hadn’t seen that one coming. But it certainly made sense. Even back during their summer together, she’d been an avid reader, always entertaining him with snippets from the books she read. “What kind?”
“A little of everything, actually. I pick up whatever freelance jobs I can find on the internet, but my real love is fiction.”
“Published?”
“Yes, but independently.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I'm also my own publisher.” She scratched her neck so hard she left red marks. “I’m my own everything actually. I design my own covers, do my own formatting, marketing, publicity, etc.”
“And you can make a living?”
She hesitated. “As long as I’m frugal. That’s actually one of the things that concerns me most about restoring the farmhouse. I don’t know how I'll have time to write. But without the writing, I don’t know how I can help pay for the renovation.”
Something he could easily relate to. “I have the same issues. I work twelve-hour shifts and come home exhausted. Not sure how I could pull off a renovation on top of my job.”
“At least you have money.” She immediately scrunched up her nose and lowered her head, as though regretting the words.
He’d suspected as much, but since she opened that can of worms. “And you don’t?”
She leveled her honest gaze at him once more. “I have a little saved, but it won’t go far.”
The waitress brought their food and set in front of them. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
“No thanks.” Fingers of guilt lowered his head to view his loaded plate, then raised it to her measly meal of bread and gravy. No wonder she was so thin. Somehow he’d find a way to pay her ticket without her knowing it. A plan hatched in his mind. “You have any other concerns besides needing time to write?”
Dakota didn’t look up. “Not really. Like I said before, I trust your judgment.”
Irritation erupted inside him, and his fork and knife clattered to the plate. “Don’t do this, Dakota.”
She glanced up, eyes wide. “Do what?”
“Don’t shove this all off on me, so you don’t have to deal with it or take responsibility later.”
Sparks flashed in her eyes, but to her credit she said nothing. Her shoulders sagged, taking her head with them. “Honestly, Chance, I’m not trying to do either. I’m just at a stalemate where this whole thing is concerned. I look at the whole thing and see an even mix of positives and negatives, most of which I can't discuss.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him short. “Don’t ask why, Chance. I just can’t.” She inhaled deeply and released the breath through pursed lips. “That’s why I want you to choose. The Lord will take care of me either way, and I know He’ll do the same for you.”
Something twisted inside him. Hearing such words of faith spoken from a sincere heart, coming from the beautiful woman in front of him touched him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He carved off a piece of the juicy steak and stuffed it in his mouth. Lord, what do you want me to do? Immediately an idea popped into his head. Her response to news he was about to deliver would give the answer he needed. He finished the bite and leaned forward.
She looked up from her
Chance glanced in the direction of the big guy. Yep, he was still ogling her. “Would you like me to say something to him, Dakota?”
“No. It’s okay.” The words machine-gunned from her mouth.
He studied her. Visibly shaken, nervous, and uncomfortable, and doing everything in her power to hide it.
“What questions did you want to ask?” She picked up her water glass and sipped, her face still partially hidden from view behind her left hand.
“Uh, yeah. The other day at Andy’s office you indicated that you have a job?”
She nodded and sat her glass on the table. “Yes, I’m a writer.”
His eyebrows scurried up his forehead. Wow, he hadn’t seen that one coming. But it certainly made sense. Even back during their summer together, she’d been an avid reader, always entertaining him with snippets from the books she read. “What kind?”
“A little of everything, actually. I pick up whatever freelance jobs I can find on the internet, but my real love is fiction.”
“Published?”
“Yes, but independently.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I'm also my own publisher.” She scratched her neck so hard she left red marks. “I’m my own everything actually. I design my own covers, do my own formatting, marketing, publicity, etc.”
“And you can make a living?”
She hesitated. “As long as I’m frugal. That’s actually one of the things that concerns me most about restoring the farmhouse. I don’t know how I'll have time to write. But without the writing, I don’t know how I can help pay for the renovation.”
Something he could easily relate to. “I have the same issues. I work twelve-hour shifts and come home exhausted. Not sure how I could pull off a renovation on top of my job.”
“At least you have money.” She immediately scrunched up her nose and lowered her head, as though regretting the words.
He’d suspected as much, but since she opened that can of worms. “And you don’t?”
She leveled her honest gaze at him once more. “I have a little saved, but it won’t go far.”
The waitress brought their food and set in front of them. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
“No thanks.” Fingers of guilt lowered his head to view his loaded plate, then raised it to her measly meal of bread and gravy. No wonder she was so thin. Somehow he’d find a way to pay her ticket without her knowing it. A plan hatched in his mind. “You have any other concerns besides needing time to write?”
Dakota didn’t look up. “Not really. Like I said before, I trust your judgment.”
Irritation erupted inside him, and his fork and knife clattered to the plate. “Don’t do this, Dakota.”
She glanced up, eyes wide. “Do what?”
“Don’t shove this all off on me, so you don’t have to deal with it or take responsibility later.”
Sparks flashed in her eyes, but to her credit she said nothing. Her shoulders sagged, taking her head with them. “Honestly, Chance, I’m not trying to do either. I’m just at a stalemate where this whole thing is concerned. I look at the whole thing and see an even mix of positives and negatives, most of which I can't discuss.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him short. “Don’t ask why, Chance. I just can’t.” She inhaled deeply and released the breath through pursed lips. “That’s why I want you to choose. The Lord will take care of me either way, and I know He’ll do the same for you.”
Something twisted inside him. Hearing such words of faith spoken from a sincere heart, coming from the beautiful woman in front of him touched him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He carved off a piece of the juicy steak and stuffed it in his mouth. Lord, what do you want me to do? Immediately an idea popped into his head. Her response to news he was about to deliver would give the answer he needed. He finished the bite and leaned forward.
She looked up from her
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