Carnal Innocence

to—”
    “It occurs to me that I’d like you to see me under some better circumstances than I’ve managed so far.” His thumb traced along her jawline. “And I’d just like to see you, period.”
    Her heartbeat skittered for a moment, but her voice was clear. “I’m not interested in starting anything, not with anyone.”
    “Having neighbors in for Sunday dinner’s an old country custom.”
    She had to smile. “I don’t mind being neighborly.”
    “Shit, Tuck, would you just kiss her and come on?”
    Smiling back, Tucker brushed a finger over her lips. “She won’t let me. Yet. Come on down around five, Caro. I’ll show you around Sweetwater.”
    “All right.”
    She watched him walk to the Caddy, ease in carefully beside his brother. He flashed her a quick grin before Dwayne shot toward Sweetwater, the Caddy hugging dead center of the road.
    “Here I come rushing home from the bake sale, thinking you’ve cracked your skull or worse, and you tell me company’s coming.” Della whacked her rolling pin down on the pie crust. “Now I don’t even know how much we took in. Had to leave Susie Truesdale in charge, and she don’t know squat about salesmanship.”
    As this particular refrain had been playing for thebest part of three hours, Tucker decided to act. He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and slapped it on the counter. “There. That’s my contribution to the Trinity Lutheran bake sale.”
    “Hmph.” But Della’s nimble fingers snatched up the bill and tucked it away in the deep pocket of her apron. She was far from through. “Nearly had me a spell when Earleen came running down to tell me you’d gone and wrecked that car. Told you when you bought it, no good comes of buying foreign. Out racing the roads on the Lord’s day, too.” She flipped the crust into a pie plate. “And when I come hurrying home to see if you’re dead or alive, you tell me you’ve invited a guest for dinner.”
    Fuming, she trimmed and fluted the edges. “As if that ham in the oven was going to fix itself. Edith’s grandbaby, too. I had a great fondness for Edith, and she told me how her grandbaby’d been to Paris, France, and Italy, walked right into Buckingham Palace and even had dinner with the President of the United States in the White House.” She pounded out the next crust. “Here she’s coming to dinner and I ain’t had time to see if the silver needs polishing. Your mama’d turn over in her grave—God rest her—if I weren’t to use the good silver.” She wiped the back of her wrist over her brow. Her heavy charm bracelet danced and jangled. “It’s just like a man to think Sunday dinner makes itself.”
    Tucker scowled down at the potato he was peeling. “I’m helping you, aren’t I?”
    She gave a superior sniff and glanced at him. “Fine help you are. You’re taking too much meat off them ’taters—and getting peelings all over my clean floor.”
    “Jesus Christ—”
    Della’s eyes flashed with the cold ire Tucker respected. “Don’t you use the Lord’s name in vain—not in my kitchen on Sunday.”
    “I’ll clean up the floor, Della.”
    “See that you do—and not with one of my good dishrags neither.”
    “No, ma’am.” It was time to pull out the big guns, Tucker decided. He set the bowl of potatoes in the sink,then moved over to wrap his arms around Della’s considerable waist. “I just wanted to do something nice for Caroline after she’d patched up my head.”
    Della grunted. “I’ve see what she looks like. I can guess what that something nice is.”
    He grinned into her wild red curls. “Can’t say the thought hasn’t passed through my mind.”
    “Passed under your zipper, more like.” But her lips were quirking. “Seems a bit skinny for your taste.”
    “Well, see, I figured she’d flesh out some, especially after sampling your cooking. You know there’s nobody in the county who can set a table compared to yours. I kind of thought I’d like to impress her, and the surefire way was to have her taste some of your honey-glazed ham.”
    Della snorted and shifted, but the flush of pride was creeping up her cheeks. “I guess I don’t begrudge giving the girl a decent meal.”
    “Decent?” He gave Della a squeeze. “Sugar, she won’t have had better in the White House. You can take that to the bank.”
    Della chuckled and slapped his hands away. “She won’t get nothing if I don’t finish. You drop them ’taters in that kale I got