“He must like you then,” she chuckled. “He doesn’t usually share.”
I nodded. “I’ve noticed.”
“Alright,” he interrupted. His hand fell to my lower back, and he nudged me forward, toward perfect looking produce. “Don’t you have shopping to do, Delane?”
I could have grilled Jo for hours on Killian. What was he like as a kid? Has he always been a genius in the kitchen? Has he always been this cocky? Focused? Intense? Can I see pictures???
“Take a look around,” Jo encouraged. “Killian’s helped me plant over the years, so I should have whatever you need.”
I raised an eyebrow at Killian. “That was nice of you.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t mean for it to be. I wanted Jo to be my personal gardener, but she’s bound and determined to make money from other people. It’s annoying.”
She looked at the sky, slapping Killian with the back of her hand simultaneously. “Heaven forbid I pay the bills.”
Killian’s voice dropped low and frustrated. “I told you I’d help out with those.”
She shook her head and moved back to her vegetables, lovingly reorganizing the ones that had been picked through. “How’s Ezra by the way? I haven’t heard from the greedy little bastard in a while.”
Suddenly the cucumbers were super interesting. I picked one up and shamelessly eavesdropped on their entire conversation.
“The same,” Killian replied evenly. “He wants to fire the chef at Bianca. He’s dating again. He won’t leave me alone.”
Jo glared at a pretty pile of heirloom tomatoes. “He should fire that idiot at Bianca.”
“He can’t get anyone to replace him,” Killian added as if reminding her.
I moved over to some plump, red strawberries. Jo softened, turning an affectionate smile on Killian. “What about the dating? I suppose that’s going the same way.”
Killian chuckled darkly. “Would you risk being turned into a restaurant?”
“He did that to himself. No respectable girl is going to go out with him only to be dumped for the sake of his empire.”
The nosy busybody inside me perked up at this new information. Now if only they would turn the conversation to Killian.
“No respectable girl should date him anyway. He’s not interested in settling down. He’s married to the business.”
Jo snorted. “I’m sure he loves hearing that from you. You’re no better.” I pretended not to notice when she turned her attention to me, staring directly without saying anything.
Killian didn’t seem to notice her averted attention. “I stay out of his business. And he stays out of mine.”
“Unless you’re both in the kitchen.”
Killian growled something I couldn’t make out.
Jo’s voice softened, gentled. “Don’t leave him, Killian. You know he needs you.”
“Jo…” Killian warned.
She raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stay out of your business. I’m just saying, you need each other. There’s no reason to fight every day of your lives.” I felt her gaze the second it snapped back to me. “And what about you, Vera? Are you having success setting up across the street from Lilou?”
I tried to pretend like I hadn’t been listening to every single word of their conversation. I lifted my gaze from the strawberries and looked as innocent as possible. “Hmm?”
“Your food truck?” Jo pushed, unafraid of asking personal details. “How do you do over there across from Lilou? I can’t imagine you have the same clientele?”
Jo seemed to know a lot about the food industry for looking like a simple farmer. I decided to grill Killian later.
“We don’t,” I agreed. “I cater more to the bar crowd. Our peak hours are different. When Lilou starts to close is when business takes off for me.”
“Did you plan that?”
I met her stare with courage I didn’t know I possessed. Her question was simple, but her meaning was deeper. She wanted to know if I had intentionally set up across from Lilou to use its success to my advantage.
“My brother owns the bike shop, Cycle Life. He lets me park in his lot rent free.”
Her shoulders relaxed just a bit, and her claws retracted. Apparently, she believed me enough to move on. “Do you have a lot of family in the area?”
“Not really. Just my older brother and Dad.”
“Oh, so you’re from here?”
I subtly brushed my hand over my forehead, wiping the nervous beads of sweat out of sight. I felt like I should be under an interrogation lamp. Her questions were simple enough, but it was her direct gaze, her shrewd insight that made me jumpy. She saw way more than I wanted her to. “I am. I left for a few years to get my degree and check out life outside of Durham. But I moved back a few months ago when my dad was diagnosed with bladder cancer.”
“Oh, my.” She wrapped an arm around her waist and settled her other hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Vera. That is just awful. What stage?”
I cleared my throat and tried not to let the always bubbling tears surface. “Four. He’s almost done with his first round of treatment.”
Jo’s hand slid to cradle her jaw. “Did they give him much hope?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “They didn’t at first. His doctor and oncologist made it seem like he might as well plan his funeral. But since he started treatment, they’ve stopped treating him like a walking corpse. We’re just kind of waiting to see. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“My husband, Mac, died of colon cancer.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
She waved me off. “That was years ago. Before Killian ever came to live with me. I’m just saying, cancer is a vindictive bitch. I hate that you have to watch someone you love go through it.”
I was humbled by her succinct but authentic consolation. I found that most people didn’t know what to say or how to reply when we dropped the C-bomb. Jo just got straight to it. Cancer sucked. There wasn’t really any other way to respond besides acknowledging that.
“Thanks,” I told her. “I hate it too.”
She offered me a tight smile, then pointed at the strawberries. “Now let’s get to it. I’m sure you’re here to rip me off. I hate delaying the pleasure for you.”
I laughed, thinking she was joking, but she remained stone-faced, so I didn’t know what to think. She moved behind the counter and started to dig around for something. I looked at Killian for help and found his gaze already on me.
He was statue still, rigid and tight, coiled like a snake about to strike. I took a step back, not knowing what his problem was. Or why he was looking at me like that, like he couldn’t decide what to do with me.
“You should have told me.” His voice was nothing but steel and gravel, restrained aggression and cool control.
My voice, on the other hand, was a croaky whisper, two parts confused and one part embarrassingly flattered. “About my dad?” He nodded. “It’s never come up. I don’t know when I would have told you.”
“I wouldn’t have—”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you would have. Don’t even pretend like you would have treated me any differently.”