Free The True Love Quilting Club by Lori Wilde Page B

held out for Maddie’s inspection. “Good job,” she said. The boy took the chair next to Emma, reached for his napkin, and spread it out in his lap.
    Maddie turned from the stove, two plates heaping with pot roast made with carrots and potatoes and a side of green beans in her hands. She slid one plate in front of Emma, the other in front of Sam, and then went back for two more plates for her and Charlie. Lastly, she deposited a wicker basket lined with a white linen napkin and filled with homemade yeast rolls in the middle of the table, along with a dish of butter. Then, finally, she sat down.
    Emma picked up her fork, ready to dive into the food, when she noticed everyone else at the table had bowed his head. Maddie reached for Emma’s hand on the right, Charlie’s from the left.
    She realized belatedly that they were saying grace. No one had ever said grace in her household, but she remembered the times she’d taken meals with Sam’s family and they’d always bowed their heads, joined hands, and given thanks for their food.
    Sam blessed the meal and then everyone echoed, “Amen.”
    In unison, movements so simultaneous it felt choreographed, they all tucked into the pot roast.
    “Bread?” Sam asked, and held up the basket of rolls.
    “Yes, thanks.” She hadn’t had a good meal in days so she figured the few extra carbs would be okay. An actress always had to be on guard against weight gain, but sometimes a girl just had to indulge herself a little.
    Emma reached for the basket and her fingertips brushed his knuckles, provoking goose bumps. The look in his eyes told her he felt it too, and she quickly ducked her head.
    “Sam grew the potatoes and carrots and onions and green beans himself,” Maddie bragged. “In his backyard garden.”
    “Really?” Emma asked, impressed.
    Sam shrugged. “Digging in the dirt relieves stress.”
    “You have a lot of stress?”
    He said nothing, but she saw him dart a glance in Charlie’s direction. She wondered how long it had been since the boy had spoken and if Sam had taken him to therapists. Probably so. The Sam Cheek she knew was nothing if not responsible.
    When they were kids she’d been the one getting him into trouble. Like the time she dared him to climb the ancient pecan tree in the park off the town square andhe’d fallen out and broken his arm. She’d felt so guilty, but when he’d returned from the hospital, his arm in a cast, he let her be the first one to sign it. And he told her he’d had so much fun the fall was worth it. That was when she’d decided he was her boyfriend and she was going to let him kiss her if he ever tried.
    She smiled at the memory of her audacious fourteen-year-old self. She’d been so fearless back then. What had happened to her? She took a bite of carrot. Whether it was Sam’s gardening skills or Maddie’s culinary talent or just the simple honesty of fresh vegetables grown in Twilight soil, the tender, slightly sweet buttery carrot was the best she’d ever tasted. She didn’t even realize she’d closed her eyes and murmured, “Mmm” until she heard Sam’s laugh. Her eyes flew open.
    “You’ve been away from country life too long if a carrot can make you moan like that.”
    Was there a hint of sexual innuendo in his tone or was she reading something more into an innocent comment? Emma slathered her roll with creamy yellow butter. “You might grow good carrots,” she said, “but I’m a city girl through and through.”
    She bit into the heavy bread and almost moaned again at the succulent decadence of fresh butter. There were several local dairies in the area, and she had a feeling the butter must have come from one of them. Okay, so maybe food did taste better when you got it closer to the land.
    Sam’s gaze was on her face. She could feel the heat of his eyes drilling into her. “You never did tell me why you were back in Twilight.”
    “Didn’t I?” She wondered if he’d heard about her troubles in New