Her face fell. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot I was supposed to help with the grill.”

“Sure, sure. You ditched me for something better. I get it.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Hey, I don’t blame you. Cleaning gunk off a grill is hardly an irresistible proposition. But I was really hurt by that, just so you know. The only thing that will help is if you promise to share whatever that is that smells so good.”

Her lips twitched. “You’re crazy. I was going to share anyway. No guilt trip needed. I was just about to take it out of the oven.”

“You really didn’t have to cook. I was just going to order something.” Jackson was truly in awe. She’d made an entire dish in less time than it took him to figure out where the dishes were in his own kitchen.

“Well, I wanted to do something to make up for how rude I was yesterday. I shouldn’t have just left like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I would have walked out, too.”

“At least I know you aren’t a vegetarian since your refrigerator is filled with nothing but raw meat. The freezer and pantry were only a little better but I was able to find some frozen chicken breast and some canned vegetables.”

“I haven't had time to shop lately, so we’ve only got the meat I’m marinating for the cookout tomorrow. I have to confess, we mainly eat microwave dinners. The only time we get home-cooked meals is when my mom comes. My mom’s a feminist, so I’m pretty sure raising a son who can’t cook is one of her lifelong disappointments.”

His stomach grumbled loudly and they both laughed at the unexpected noise in the otherwise quiet kitchen. She slid her hand into an oven mitt and pulled open the oven. His mouth watered as a savory aroma immediately filled the room. She placed the dish carefully on the stovetop.

“Well, I can hear you’re hungry, so let’s dig in. I also made string beans with potatoes. I couldn’t find anything else to make in the pantry.” She started scooping food onto plates.

“I’m working on hiring someone to watch the boys and maybe cook a few times a week. None of the nannies I’ve interviewed have worked out so far.” He held up his hands at the large servings she was dishing up. “I don’t think I can eat all of that!”

“Oh… actually this is mine.” She turned back to her plate and giggled a little. It looked like it was heavier than she was. “I was eating fast food in between bus rides on the way here so I need a home-cooked meal myself.” She settled down with her food and hummed as she bit off a piece of chicken.

They ate at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He couldn’t stop himself from staring as she got up to get a second helping.

“What! I’m not one of those girls who eat a salad and claim to be full. I’m hungry!”

“No, don’t apologize. I appreciate a woman who can eat.” He didn’t add that he also appreciated the after-effects of a healthy appetite, namely the soft curves stretching out her jeans and tee shirt. She already thought he was a pig. If she knew why he was really staring, she’d probably dump the casserole dish over his head.

“So, where were you coming from?”

Her hand paused before she speared another bite of food. “Florida. That’s where I went to college.”

“It’s weird; I thought I read somewhere that you didn’t go to college.”

“Oh, I didn’t finish.” Raina looked away. “That’s probably why. Anyway, I still have friends there. What about you? Have you always lived here?”

“Virginian, born and bred. My parents have a farm not too far from here. I went to college across the water in Norfolk. Dropped out before I finished, too. I was too busy playing the guitar to study anything useful.”

She looked around. “Well, apparently you studied something useful.”

“Not everyone thinks so. It was a long time before I started earning enough to make a living. Then I got my break about two years ago when a major country western star liked one of my songs enough to record it.”

Her eyes widened and he grinned, enjoying her shock. “Are you surprised? Let me guess, you assumed I was into R&B or hip-hop music, right?”

“Okay, you got me. Those were totally stereotypical assumptions to make. I hate when people assume they know me before I even open my mouth. I’m a little ashamed that I’m guilty of doing it, too.” She propped her head on her fist as she watched him. “So, what got you into country music?”

“My parents own a farm, remember? My parents are a little bit country and a little bit rock n’ roll, as my dad would say. We heard country music around the house since I was a little kid. One of my uncles plays the guitar, and he taught me when I was about ten. I haven’t stopped since. That first song turned into an album, then I got an offer to collaborate on another country star’s album. The rest is history, I guess. Both of those albums did really well, so all my hard work finally paid off.” 

He stopped then and waited, holding her gaze. When she looked away, he knew she understood. He’d told her his story. Now, it was her turn.

She sighed.

“My mom died a few years ago.”

Jackson closed his eyes. “I am so sorry.” 

“Thanks. We weren’t close and I regret that. That’s when I first starting searching for my biological father.  I hired a private investigator to track him down. His name was David. He invited me to dinner to tell me what he found out. I didn’t see any harm in going. He seemed nice enough.” She stood and carried her plate over to the sink.