developed.
Lily thought about waking her father just to vent her worry and then stopped herself. If she admitted she was worried, then she would have to admit why. It wasn't possible. She couldn't care for this man. The last man she'd cared for had let her down horribly. It hurt too much to face the possibility again.
She slammed the last fork back into place, shuffled the knives although they didn't need shuffling, and then dropped the drawer and its contents onto the floor as the kitchen door suddenly opened.
An entire twelve-place setting of stainless steel cutlery went flying across the shiny linoleum.
As tired as he was, Case began to grin. "Best greeting I've had all day," he said.
"You startled me," she accused, and got down on her hands and knees and began grabbing at the knives, forks and spoons.
"I see that," he said softly, as he knelt to help.
"I can do it," Lily said. "I dropped it . . . I'll clean it up."
"Sometimes, Lily, two sets of hands are better than one. Don't argue with me. I'm too damned tired to hear it."
She swiftly relented as she saw the lines of weariness beneath his eyes and the tired droop to his lips. A thin layer of dust hung over his skin and clothing and his usually bright blue eyes were almost gray with fatigue.
She grabbed his hand and gently took the handful of cutlery from him.
"Go take a bath," she said softly. "I saved some supper for you."
He leaned back on his heels, searching her face for more than concern. He sighed with defeat. It wasn't there.
"I won't be long," he said quietly. And walked away.
Lily knew something more than fatigue was bothering him. She'd felt it ever since church this morning. Sometime between their arrival and their departure, Case had changed. She didn't think it was a religious revelation that had overcome him. But for the life of her, she couldn't quite put her finger on the problem.
If she'd only known to turn around and look in a mirror, Lily Brownfield would have been staring at Case's problem. But if she had, she wouldn't have known how to deal with it. She couldn't even deal with her own.
Case walked back into the kitchen. Tiny droplets of water still beaded across his bare belly where he'd hurried to dry, knowing that Lily was waiting for him. One button was undone at the waistband of his blue jeans and hair was wet and seal black against his neck as he dropped into his seat at the kitchen table.
"Sorry I didn't dress for supper," he said, trying to tease the look of shock off her face. "But as soon as I eat, I'm going to undress again and crawl into bed. Didn't want to waste any time getting there."
Lily tried to ignore all that expanse of bare skin as she filled his plate with food she'd kept warm from the evening meal.
"It doesn't bother me," she said quickly. "I have four brothers, remember?" But I never wanted to touch my brothers the way I want to touch you. Her wayward thoughts made her hands shake and she slopped bean juice down the side of the bowl as she carried it to the table.
"Sorry," she said, as she set it down and went to get a cloth. "I kept the cornbread warm but I'm afraid it's going to be a little tough. It just doesn't heat up like other breads. I always think it's a little . . ."
Case grabbed her hand. "Stop it, Lily," he said quietly. "It's fine just the way it is. Don't fuss."
And when he feared that he'd hurt her feelings by being too abrupt, he finished by saying, "I'm not used to having anyone care whether I showed up late or even showed up at all."
"Oh! I wasn't . . ."
Her voice ceased at the look on his face. She couldn't lie, not about that, and not now.
"Well," she said. "I knew you were all right. I just didn't want you to go to bed hungry."
I could eat until morning, and I'd still be hungry . . . for you. "Thank you, Lily. I really appreciate it."
She blushed, and turned to the counter, staring at the jumble of cutlery. "Now I'm going to have to wash this stuff all over again before I put it
Lily thought about waking her father just to vent her worry and then stopped herself. If she admitted she was worried, then she would have to admit why. It wasn't possible. She couldn't care for this man. The last man she'd cared for had let her down horribly. It hurt too much to face the possibility again.
She slammed the last fork back into place, shuffled the knives although they didn't need shuffling, and then dropped the drawer and its contents onto the floor as the kitchen door suddenly opened.
An entire twelve-place setting of stainless steel cutlery went flying across the shiny linoleum.
As tired as he was, Case began to grin. "Best greeting I've had all day," he said.
"You startled me," she accused, and got down on her hands and knees and began grabbing at the knives, forks and spoons.
"I see that," he said softly, as he knelt to help.
"I can do it," Lily said. "I dropped it . . . I'll clean it up."
"Sometimes, Lily, two sets of hands are better than one. Don't argue with me. I'm too damned tired to hear it."
She swiftly relented as she saw the lines of weariness beneath his eyes and the tired droop to his lips. A thin layer of dust hung over his skin and clothing and his usually bright blue eyes were almost gray with fatigue.
She grabbed his hand and gently took the handful of cutlery from him.
"Go take a bath," she said softly. "I saved some supper for you."
He leaned back on his heels, searching her face for more than concern. He sighed with defeat. It wasn't there.
"I won't be long," he said quietly. And walked away.
Lily knew something more than fatigue was bothering him. She'd felt it ever since church this morning. Sometime between their arrival and their departure, Case had changed. She didn't think it was a religious revelation that had overcome him. But for the life of her, she couldn't quite put her finger on the problem.
If she'd only known to turn around and look in a mirror, Lily Brownfield would have been staring at Case's problem. But if she had, she wouldn't have known how to deal with it. She couldn't even deal with her own.
Case walked back into the kitchen. Tiny droplets of water still beaded across his bare belly where he'd hurried to dry, knowing that Lily was waiting for him. One button was undone at the waistband of his blue jeans and hair was wet and seal black against his neck as he dropped into his seat at the kitchen table.
"Sorry I didn't dress for supper," he said, trying to tease the look of shock off her face. "But as soon as I eat, I'm going to undress again and crawl into bed. Didn't want to waste any time getting there."
Lily tried to ignore all that expanse of bare skin as she filled his plate with food she'd kept warm from the evening meal.
"It doesn't bother me," she said quickly. "I have four brothers, remember?" But I never wanted to touch my brothers the way I want to touch you. Her wayward thoughts made her hands shake and she slopped bean juice down the side of the bowl as she carried it to the table.
"Sorry," she said, as she set it down and went to get a cloth. "I kept the cornbread warm but I'm afraid it's going to be a little tough. It just doesn't heat up like other breads. I always think it's a little . . ."
Case grabbed her hand. "Stop it, Lily," he said quietly. "It's fine just the way it is. Don't fuss."
And when he feared that he'd hurt her feelings by being too abrupt, he finished by saying, "I'm not used to having anyone care whether I showed up late or even showed up at all."
"Oh! I wasn't . . ."
Her voice ceased at the look on his face. She couldn't lie, not about that, and not now.
"Well," she said. "I knew you were all right. I just didn't want you to go to bed hungry."
I could eat until morning, and I'd still be hungry . . . for you. "Thank you, Lily. I really appreciate it."
She blushed, and turned to the counter, staring at the jumble of cutlery. "Now I'm going to have to wash this stuff all over again before I put it
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