Inherit the Word by Daryl Wood Gerber

Author:Daryl Wood Gerber
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: mystery, recipes, cats, cozy, women sleuths
ISBN: 9780698137967
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2014-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

RHETT SPUN ME toward him and took hold of my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Before I could answer, he kissed me hard on the mouth. When he released me, I felt as awkward as a schoolgirl in her first play. My mouth went dry. I needed a drink of water something awful. The toes of my right foot, kid you not, wormed their way into the sand. How foolish could an almost-thirtysomething woman act?

“Well, that was nice,” I said. “The kiss, not the scene between the Bryants.”

“I was worried about you. Willie . . .” Rhett ran a finger through a curl of my hair.

“He’s so edgy,” I said. “I was concerned that he might hurt Ellen.”

“I’m sure the new responsibility is getting to him. He’s got a lot to handle with a wife and a kid.”

And extra cash and a new house, I thought cynically.

“Hey, look.” Rhett pointed. “Over there. I see them. They seem fine now.”

Ellen and Willie, clutching his daughter, stood apart from the rest. She was running her hand up and down his arm. Willie nodded passively.

“I’ve been into the Word a couple of times this past week,” Rhett continued. “Willie seems in over his head. He’s always got a ledger or a menu in his hands and a perplexed look on his face. Not everyone is meant to run a business.” Rhett sighed. “Are you calmer now?”

“Yes.” I glanced at Norah, who stood apart from her family. What had gone down between Willie and her? Had she, like Sam, butted in with parental advice, setting the stage for Willie’s overreaction to my intrusion? Maybe she had called Willie controlling when he’d covered his daughter’s ears to protect them from the loud noises.

“Care to try it again?” Rhett said.

“Try what? Oh, the kiss. Yes, but . . .” I balked. But what? Was I scared? Those gorgeous eyes. That delicious mouth. Why was I holding back with him, not only now but also on my run the other day? Six months ago, my therapist in San Francisco had told me I was “fit for duty” and ready to reenter the world. Date. Have fun. Take a chance. When I’d called her to tell her I was moving back to Crystal Cove, she had cheered. I knew what she would advise me to do if she learned about the mystery involving the Lucky Cat statue that had sent me into a tailspin this past week, exactly what my father had advised: seek a local therapist.

“Jenna?” Rhett said.

I popped onto my toes, bussed Rhett on the cheek, and said, “Yes, I want to kiss you again, but we need to go on an official date first, okay?”

“Our picnic—”

“Not official. Happenstance. Call me old school.”

“Okay, Old School, you’re on. How’s Monday night?”

“Why Monday?”

“You’ll see.”

Excited but also feeling like a skittish kitten, I squeezed his hand and ran off. Heaven forbid I stick around and continue the conversation like an adult.

When I arrived home, Tigger, speaking of skittish kittens, pounced on me.

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