Free Meet Me Under the Mistletoe by Joann Durgin Page B

lowered the bowl of chili to the table. He’d overfilled it, so he needed to be careful the chili didn’t spill over the edges. “I’ll have you know this is prize-winning and earned a blue ribbon in the county fair last year.” Normally, he didn’t boast, but it was the one thing he could make from scratch, and people seemed to like it.
    “I’m impressed,” Julia said. “It sure smells good. Do you have any crackers or do you think that somehow detracts from the true flavor?”
    “Not at all. I think I might have some,” he said, opening a cabinet and holding up a bag. “Oyster crackers OK?”
    Julia nodded. “Perfect. Thanks.”
    “How about grated cheese? Some people like that in their chili, too.”
    “The crackers are all I need.” She stopped him when she saw him pull out a bowl. “Leave them in the bag. No need to be fancy.”
    “My kind of woman,” Jake said, sitting across from her. He shook his head. “I mean you’re—”
    “Relax. I know what you meant. Aren’t you going to join me and have some, too?”
    “I will, but I want you to try it first. Let’s pray.” With a small smile, Julia bowed her head while he said grace. He’d like to enfold her hand in his when they prayed, but that would only be an excuse. No, it wouldn’t be a good idea.
    Julia daintily sipped from the spoon. “It’s very good,” she said, sampling another, bigger spoonful. “It’s spicy, but—” In the span of a few seconds, her face flushed, and she dropped the spoon back into the bowl, splattering some of the chili before fanning her face with one hand. “Are you trying to kill me?” She sputtered and thumped a curled fist on her chest before gulping down her entire glass of water.
    All Jake could do was sit and stare—and force his mouth closed. No one—not even kids—had shown such an adverse reaction to his chili.
    “This is award-winning?” She finally came up for air. “Do you have milk?”
    Jake tried not to scowl. “Yes, to both questions.” He pushed the chair back and grabbed the glass. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out the half-gallon of milk and poured some in her glass.
    “How is that possible?” Julia said, coughing some more as she reached for the glass still in his hand. She downed half the milk before stopping. “I mean,” she rasped, “how could the judges give it an award if they’re all dead?”
    Jake bit his tongue not to say something inadvisable. Get over it, man. She’d helped him to the point of getting on her hands and knees and scrubbing to remove the stain from the throw rug, and she’d promised to repair the curtains. For her willingness to help alone, Julia deserved her own blue ribbon. When he’d come downstairs after a quick shower with Bailey in his arms, she’d gone nuts over the puppy. He enjoyed her enthusiasm and—for the briefest of moments—wished she could stay forever. Considering Bailey was now slumbering away at Julia’s feet, the feeling was mutual. He had to admit, his little canine friend had good instincts.
    “I’m really sorry, Jake, but that’s the spiciest chili I’ve ever had. I’m not very adventurous when it comes to food.”
    After returning the milk container to the refrigerator, he dropped back into his chair. “Are you OK now?”
    She gave him a sheepish grin. “I think so.”
    “Tell me something. Why milk?”
    “It neutralizes the acid in spicy foods.”
    The corners of his mouth upturned. “Good to know. So I suppose you generally avoid spicy foods or else you drink a lot of milk, right?”
    “Yes, to both questions. Forgive me, please?” When Julia batted her long eyelashes at him, he’d forgive her anything.
    “Stop it,” he said, fighting the urge to laugh. “Those puppy dog eyes remind me too much of Bailey, and I can’t refuse her, either. Wait a second. That didn’t come out quite right.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. It sounded fine to me.”
    Changing the subject would be good. Jake cleared his