The Coldwater Warm Hearts Club by Lexi Eddings Page A

went deep. Even unfiltered, it was the best water Lacy had ever tasted.
    â€œYeah, there’s enough for two,” Jake said. “And blueberry cobbler with homemade walnut ice cream for dessert.”
    Jacob put the sweets in the fridge. Then he unpacked garlic mashed potatoes, fried okra, and fresh rolls. Judging from the yeasty, buttery smell, those rolls hadn’t popped out of a can of refrigerated dough.
    â€œWhen did you become Martha Stewart?” Lacy asked as she surveyed the feast.
    â€œMartha?” Jake arched a dark brow at her. “Please. Emeril, maybe, but not Martha. Think we can do a little better than water, too.”
    He pulled out a bottle of merlot.
    â€œPlanning on getting me drunk and having your way with me, I see,” Lacy said with a laugh.
    â€œLet me know if it starts working.” As if he was serving at a church potluck, he dished out heavy-handed portions for both of them.
    By this time, Lacy had completely forgotten about the cat, but Effie was evidently tired of being ignored. She leaped up onto the bar stool in the light-footed way of felines.
    â€œCareful!”
    â€œOf what?” Jake popped the cork and rummaged in her cabinets, looking for wineglasses. She hadn’t found the box holding them yet. He settled for a couple of juice tumblers. “It’s just a cat.”
    â€œJust an attack cat. After the way she mauled the movers, I’m in no mood to be trusting.”
    Then Effie began making a new noise, one Lacy had never heard from her—a loud, rumbling purr. The cat jumped down from the stool and twined sinuously between Jake’s legs, rubbing both his muscular calf and the titanium with equal fervor. Finally, she groveled on the hardwood before him until he bent over and scratched her exposed belly. The cat writhed in pleasure.
    â€œEffie, you little slut. You made a liar out of me,” Lacy said. “She normally doesn’t like anyone.”
    Jacob shrugged. “Seems to like me well enough.”
    â€œGuess she found her person,” Lacy said. “Evidently, your charm works on females of all species.”
    He grinned up at her while he gave Effie a final long stroke. “Does this mean you’ll let me rub your belly, too?”
    Lacy punched his shoulder, sure he was kidding. They were just friends now. She carried the plates to her little bistro table. Jake moved the unpacked boxes off the top so she could set them down.
    â€œThis way we can see each other,” he explained.
    That was okay. Jake was easy on the eyes. As long as they kept things casual, she was all for spending time with Jacob Tyler.
    Anything else was a proven hazard to a girl’s heart.
    The food was as good as its aroma promised. “Honestly, Jake, I never knew you could cook like this.”
    He flashed that ever-ready dimple. “Neither did I. But after I came home from Afghanistan, I had to figure out something to do pretty fast. I had a little put by and the Green Apple was for sale.”
    â€œAnd you figured, ‘How hard could it be to burn a burger or two?’”
    He swallowed a bite of meat loaf. “Something like that.”
    â€œBut why here? Why come back to Coldwater?”
    â€œWhy not? It’s home.”
    â€œActually, I’m feeling a little homesick for Boston.” At least, the pre–Bradford Endicott Boston.
    â€œWhat would you be doing tonight if you were still there?” Jake asked.
    â€œMy friend Shannon and I might meet for drinks after work.” Shannon Keane had been a student at the same institute where Lacy had studied design. Majoring in fashion, Shannon could not only draw beautiful clothes, she was a wiz with scissors and a sewing machine. Lacy could thank Shannon for most of the pretty things that would soon find their new home in her tiny closet.
    â€œDo you think there are no bars in Coldwater?” Jake asked.
    â€œI’m sure there are.” The place