Foster Justice by Colleen Shannon

Author:Colleen Shannon [Shannon, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2014-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

The next day, when Jasmine arose after her late shift, it was noon. By the time she exited the shower some time later, she heard rattling in the kitchen as she dressed hurriedly in street clothes. Jeans, T-shirt, and boots seemed to be her favored attire these days. She’d given up boots long ago, BC. Before Chad.

When she went into the living room she found the tray she’d given him for a late lunch the previous day, reset for two. He’d found a box of macaroni and cheese in her pantry and added some frozen mixed veggies and a can of tuna. He topped off the meal with whole wheat garlic toast, all cooked perfectly. Not bad for an impromptu meal in a strange place. Jasmine was touched and surprised at yet another example of his domesticity and kindness.

Still, she had to make light of it or break into tears. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel totally alone... “Wow, do I get a flower?”

Chad uncorked the bottle of white wine he’d pilfered from her fridge. He poured a finger into a wine glass, whirled it around, and offered it to her to smell. “Bouquet—a hint of sunflower mixed with woody pieces of oak.”

Jasmine sniffed. “I’m not sure those two go together in the sommelier world.”

“Lady, I’m just making this up as I go. How am I doing?” He poured his own glass.

She laughed at his honesty. “Not bad for a guy from West Texas.”

“Why don’t you just say it like everyone else? Cowboy.”

Jasmine tilted her head as she studied him. “I have a feeling there’s much more to you than that.”

They sat down before the tray and ate. Again, the companionable way they broke bread, he sensing her need for pepper and handing it to her, she picking up his napkin when it slipped to the floor, gave her deeper food for thought. But she’d think about it later; she could never keep her head when he was so close. She debated bringing up the articles she’d found, but hated to spoil their rare amity.

When they finished, she insisted on taking the tray to the kitchen. “You cooked, so it’s my turn to wash.”

“That the way your Mama raised you?”

“Yes. In that way, I suspect, we had a similar upbringing.”

When she came back out, Chad was standing at her bookcase holding the only picture she had of her father. She’d ripped it apart, intending to throw it away, but she couldn’t bear to and taped it back together, putting it in a beat-up, rickety frame that was almost coming apart, telling herself that’s all he deserved.

“I can glue this back together for you if you want.”

She snatched it out of his hands and set it back in the shelf, not needing to see the tall, stern figure in judge’s robes because her father was still a living memory to her.

He looked at the patrician bone structure of her face, back to the picture. “You have his chin and cheekbones.

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