“Seriously?”
“Daniel made it. You should see some of the things he can put together. He’s working on starting a business of it. The Pallet Palace. I did his website back in the summer. Right now it’s largely custom orders, since he doesn’t have a place to store stock, but he hopes to expand eventually.” She tugged a blanket off the back. “It’s a bit chilly tonight.”
“Welcome to fall in Mississippi. Summer temps in the daytime and cold at night. C’mon.” Reed opened his arms in invitation.
She tucked the blanket around their legs and snuggled in close, resting her head against his chest. He decided it was an almost perfect end to a pretty perfect night—run-in with Annelise notwithstanding.
“So did you ge
t what you needed out of the reading?”
Cecily laughed. “Was that really why you asked me to go?”
“Partly. Mostly I wanted to see you in my world. You fit pretty well. For a Yankee.”
“Really? That’s the part you focus on after everything you know about me?”
So sure she’d be judged on her affluent background. He skimmed his fingers through her silky hair, resisting the urge to bury his nose in the sweet, lemony scent. “It’s the only relevant part. You passed the cornbread test.”
“It was damned good cornbread.” On a contented sigh, she said, “I had fun.”
“Good. There’s a lot of other stuff I want to show you to further your southern education.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“The Sweet Potato Festival is only a few weeks off.”
“Sweet potatoes?” Her voice dripped with skepticism.
“Sure. Vardaman is the sweet potato capital of the world. Once you’ve had sweet potato pie, you’ll never go back to pumpkin.”
“Blasphemer! There is no Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie.”
“I’ll concede that it’s worth having both.”
“Generous of you.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as too much pie.”
She grinned up at him. “I’ve eaten your grandmother’s pie. This is a true thing. What else?”
“Well, there’s the Spring pilgrimage in Columbus. It’s not as grand as the one in Natchez, but it’s closer and easier to manage. You’ll totally dig all the folks that dress up in period clothes to give the tours of all the antebellum homes.”
Reed knew as soon as the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. He could actually see the reality of their situation come crashing back down on her. Every fiber of his being wanted to rewind, have a do-over as the light in her eyes dimmed and her expression twisted into regret.
“Reed—”
Please don’t say it.
She pulled away from him, tugging the blanket up to her chin. “I’m interviewing in San Francisco in a few weeks.”
It wasn’t what he’d expected.
Don’t go. But, of course, he had no right to ask that. “Congratulations.”
One corner of her mouth twitched into a wry smile. “That isn’t what you want to say and we both know it.”
“Those Southern manners are too deeply ingrained for me to say what I want to say.”