Hunter had no idea what his brother had been saying, but he smiled. “Don’t think so.”
Fisher shrugged.
“When are you leaving?” Eli asked.
Hunter stared at his son. So did everyone else at the table.
“I...I mean,” the boy stuttered, seeing his mistake, “you’re going back to Washington, right, Miss Stephens?”
Hunter was stunned. And more than a little hurt. What had he done to make his son worry so? To think Eli would be replaced by anyone in his heart? It pissed Hunter off that his son was talking to Jo like that. But there was something else going on with Eli, and he needed to find out what it was—soon.
“I’m trying to convince her to stay,” her father said. “Seems to me, she can write anywhere.”
“And all her stories are about Stonewall Crossing, anyway,” Lola chimed in. “I’ve got that little stone cottage needing a tenant.”
“Any news about the university job?” his father asked.
“I told them I’d get back to them in January,” she admitted. “There’s a chance for me to do a lovely in memoriam mural at the vet school I’d really love to do before I go.”
“You’re staying?” Eli’s voice was tight.
“No.” Josie shook her head. Pain laced Eli’s words. Hunter heard it, and Jo heard it, too. There was no doubt how his son felt about Jo, about Jo being a part of their life. “Eli, I’m... I have no plans to stay.” Hunter looked at her, wanting to argue. But she didn’t look at him—she was too busy watching Eli. Her sadness twisted his heart. His son’s rigid jaw, the way he stared at his empty plate, all but ripped Hunter’s heart right out.
A heavy, awkward silence descended.
“Dessert?” Renata asked.
“I’ll help clear.” Jo jumped up, a smile pasted on her face. She made her way around the table, collecting plates, before disappearing into the kitchen with Renata.
A few minutes later, Renata appeared with a pie in one hand and a large platter of cookies in the other. But no Jo. He waited another five minutes before he headed for the kitchen. Jo’s sleeves were pushed up, her hands submerged in a sink full of soap suds and dinner dishes. She scrubbed each dish, attacking it until Hunter knew they didn’t need to be run through the dishwasher. She loaded them in anyway, her movements jerky and stiff. When all the dishes were loaded, she scrubbed down the counter and tidied up. He watched her pull in a deep, shaky breath. Was there anything he could say to her? Any way to convince her that their love was worth the trouble? Her eyes went round when she turned to find him leaning against the doorway.
“Feel better?” he asked, not moving.
She shook her head.
He almost crossed to her, almost took her in his arms. But she held herself so rigidly he was afraid he’d break her. “He’s a kid, Jo.”
“A kid that doesn’t like me much.” She smoothed her black sweater.
She was hurting. And vulnerable. “I like you enough for both of us.” His gaze held hers, willing her to see things his way.
“Dad.” Eli squeezed between his father and the door. “Grandpa Teddy wants you.”
“Okay.” He paused, looking at his son, then Jo. “Help Jo make the coffee. She doesn’t know her way around the kitchen.”
He didn’t know who was angrier, Eli or Jo. But damn it, his son needed to know Jo for the woman she was, not the monster Amy had made her out to be. He gave Jo a wink, leveled a warning at his son and left.
Chapter Thirteen
Eli glanced at her, wary, before opening the kitchen cabinets. No point in ignoring him. She could try to talk to him. Hunter obviously thought it was a good idea. “So, Eli,” she began, speaking to his back. He didn’t turn around or acknowledge her, but she kept going. “The float looks great. You happy with it?”
He shrugged but didn’t turn around.
“You do this every year?” She plugged in the coffeepot, filling it with water. “The club, I mean.”
He nodded, putting mugs on the counter.
She paused, swallowing back her sigh. Well, this was going well. “Can you point me in the direction of the coffee?”