His detective training on the Dallas PD kicked in as he watched her pace nervously across the porch. She was short, maybe an inch or two over five feet tall, and soaking wet she might hit 120 pounds. Her slightly pointed chin didn’t detract from her delicate features. Even with no makeup she was a looker—someone he might have hit on in a bar before he settled down with Melanie.
“That’s crazy. What would you use for a bathroom?” She continued flipping that quilt around every time she turned to pace to the other end of the porch. “The house is warm, even if it’s shabby right now. We need to go inside out of the cold and talk if we’re going to be partners.”
“What’s there to talk about? We both know it needs to be remodeled, so we’ll go halves on everything. Close it down until spring and have a grand opening when everything is done,” he said.
She eased down on the step beside him and put her head in her hands. “I have about a hundred dollars in my checking account. I hope you have a little more than that, or else your credit is good enough to get a loan.”
“Sweet Jesus!” he gasped.
“Here’s what I offered Reuben. Hear me out, okay?” She started talking before he could even answer and finished with, “Whether you have the money or you can get a loan, we can put it all in a contract so you won’t feel like I’m taking advantage. I’m willing to work right beside you until we get the place back in shape. I can paint, sand, or do anything if you’ll only show me how. The Realtor told me that you are a crackerjack carpenter.”
“Can you cook?” he asked when she finally wound down.
She nodded.
“And you’ll work right along with me without bitchin’?”
Another nod.
He stuck out his hand. “Then you’ve got a deal. We’ll draw up something on paper tomorrow morning and each of us will sign it. And I don’t need to get a loan from a bank. Got a safe in the house?”
“Just a little one in the utility room,” she answered.
“We’ll put our paper in there when we get done with it,” he said. “So you can cook for real?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’m hungry,” he said.
Even though Jolene looked like she might have traveled a few rough roads, she didn’t sound like she was conning him. And he really was starving. That slice of cold pizza he’d had for breakfast had long since digested. He’d been so busy getting the trailer ready to move that he’d forgotten all about lunch.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I love breakfast for supper. So I’d like biscuits and gravy, pancakes, and maybe an omelet with hash browns on the side.” He straightened up and headed across the porch with Sassy right behind him.
“Are you testing me to see if I can make a good breakfast for the inn when it’s up and running again?”
“Nope. I just happen to really like homemade breakfast food, and I thought I’d push my luck,” he answered.
“I can have it ready in thirty minutes while you do a walk-through of your new property, Mr. Malone,” she said.
“Are you serious? An omelet with some toast would be fine. Just call me Tucker. Unless you want to stand on formality, and then I’ll call you Miss Broussard.” He waited for her to catch up, and then held the door for her and Sassy. “Hope you ain’t allergic to cats.”
“No, sir. Love them, as a matter of fact. Not much into dogs. You go on and see what you think while I get some food going, and I’ll show you that I can put a decent breakfast on the table—Tucker.” She hurried off to the kitchen as he started up the wide, curved stairway.
Jolene’s hands shook as she stirred up biscuit dough from Aunt Sugar’s recipe file. If he had enough money to redo this place, why in the hell was he living in a travel trailer? Why would he want to buy half ownership? And this all had happened in two days—wasn’t that too quick?
Questions upon questions raced through her mind, but there wasn’t a single answer to any of them. She shook flour on a piece of waxed paper and kneaded the dough a few times. Once it was cut into a dozen perfect circles, she stomped her foot. She should’ve only made half a recipe. There was no way two