Honeysuckle Summer (The Sweet Magnolias #7)(29)

Sarah shook her head sorrowfully. “Then I’ll tell Dr. McDaniels you really do have a screw loose.”

Raylene scowled at her. “You are not amusing.”

“Not trying to be. Hiding inside is one thing. You can’t help that. Ignoring a hot man who’s definitely interested in you would be flat-out wrong.”

“I don’t think he’s going to let me ignore him,” Raylene said, then groaned when the doorbell rang. “My gentleman caller, I assume.”

Sarah grinned. “That would be my guess. I’ll let him in, then take the kids and scram. Dinner in an hour?”

“If you say so,” Raylene grumbled. “I hope he can at least make a salad.”

She heard Sarah and Carter exchanging a few words, and then he was in the kitchen. Even though she’d known he was on his way in, seeing him was still a shock to her system. The man could probably thaw a roast with one of those searing looks he tended to give her. As it was, her blood sizzled in ways it hadn’t in a very long time. The reaction was troubling because she wasn’t entirely sure, when push came to shove, if she’d be able to respond to a man’s touch ever again. That was just one more thing to worry about, when she already had her hands full dealing with therapy.

Before he could say a word, she moved a bowl in his direction, then pointed to the raw vegetables she’d assembled. “You’re on salad duty,” she told him. “And if you want to invite Carrie and Mandy, then you’ll need to make a big one.”

He blinked at the order. “Am I invited for dinner?”

“Sarah says you are. She thinks the girls should come, too. Something about a celebration.” She finally dared to meet his gaze. “What’s that about? She wouldn’t tell me.”

He chuckled. “That must have killed her.”

Raylene couldn’t stop her own grin. “More than likely. She says she took the kids for a walk to give us time alone, but I think it’s because she was terrified she was going to spill the beans.”

“Time alone, huh?”

He seemed a little too intrigued by the thought. Raylene frowned at him. “Don’t be getting any ideas, buster. She thought you had something to tell me.”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Let me call the house and tell Carrie and Mandy to ride their bikes over, then I’ll tell you.”

“Do they know?”

He shook his head and gestured to his uniform. “I haven’t been home yet. I came straight here when I went off duty.”

“Then wait until they get here and tell us all at once,” she suggested. “And in the meantime you need to get busy on that salad.”

Carter eyed the vegetables with dismay. “Not my area of expertise. Maybe you should wait and teach the girls.”

Raylene put her hands on her hips. “You can’t even make a salad?”

He looked sheepish. “Sorry, no.”

“That is just pitiful.”

“Tell me about it. I hadn’t planned on being what amounts to a single dad.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You eat, don’t you? What were you doing for meals before your folks died?”

“I went to restaurants or threw myself on my mom’s mercy,” he admitted, then added with a grin, “And then there were those women who were trying to impress me.”

She shook her head. “Well, that’s about to change. As soon as you’ve called the girls, we’ll start with the basics.”

“Were you a drill sergeant in another life?” he grumbled.

“Could have been,” she said. “The important thing now is that you’re in my kitchen, so you do what I say.” She liked the feeling of power that idea gave her.

“I thought this was Sarah’s house.”

“The kitchen is all mine,” she corrected. “It works out nicely.”

Carter made the call to his sisters, then hung up with obvious reluctance. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes. Are you sure you don’t want to wait for them to make the salad?”

“Now you’re just being pathetic,” she said, handing him the head of lettuce. “Tear off the leaves and put them in the colander.”

“The what?”

She held up the metal strainer. “This,” she said. “Once you’ve torn up enough lettuce—small pieces, by the way—then rinse it and shake off as much excess water as you can.”

“Why not just buy the bags of already prepared salad?”

“Because I like the old-fashioned way.”

“Who would have guessed,” he muttered with a dramatic air of resignation.

Raylene had to bite back a smile as he tore the lettuce into small pieces, a frown of concentration on his brow. There was something utterly charming about seeing a big, strong cop, still wearing his gun, in fact, looking so completely out of his element.

When Raylene assured him he had enough lettuce, he ran water over it, then shook the colander a bit too energetically. Lettuce flew everywhere. Fortunately, enough was left to make the salad. He dumped it triumphantly into the bowl.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now you chop the peppers, tomatoes and green onions and add those. See what I mean? It’s pretty basic stuff. Even a beginner can make a salad.”