"Had supper yet?" she asked in a flippant way.
"Nope." He hefted the ax to his shoulder and grinned down at her. "Are you offering to cook?"
There wasn't much in the house to eat, but they could get something at Clara's store. She wrinkled her nose.
"No, I'm offering to take you out to dinner."
The smile instantly faded and a wary expression took its place. He lifted the ax, taking aim at a new block of wood. "No thanks." With one stroke he lopped the wood in half. "I'll get something at the store before I go home."
A hot flush warmed her cheeks again. Why the sudden change?
"I suppose it would be a lot of trouble to get ready, and you must be tired. I'll fix something here." She took a step toward the house and waited, but he didn't respond. Now what was that all about?
In the house, she removed her camping cookware from the cabinet and started scraping together some semblance of a meal. Placing some eggs into a saucepan she ran enough water to cover them and placed them over a fire on the stove. She opened the cupboards and glanced over her meager supply of canned goods. What would he like?
Using instant potatoes she managed to make a passable potato salad and opened a can of baked beans. It wasn't much, but with the cold cuts it made a filling meal. She put on a pot of coffee and called him to eat.
He arrived in the kitchen with his shirt on and smiled as he sank to the bench in front of the plate she had filled for him.
"It looks good. You didn't have to put yourself out, though. Sandwiches would have been fine."
She leaned over to pour his coffee and let one hand rest on his shoulder.
"You're trying to make me feel good again. This is a makeshift meal at best."
He glanced at her hand and shifted in his chair uncomfortably. She hastily withdrew her hand, her cheeks burning again. Why was he suddenly so uncomfortable around her? She returned the coffeepot to the stove and dropped to the bench opposite him.
"Have I done something to offend you?"
He head jerked up and he looked surprised. "No. What made you ask that?"
She shrugged. "You didn't want to go out to dinner with me, and just now you practically cringed when I touched you."
He stirred his potato salad thoughtfully. "You come right to the point, don't you?"
"Is there something wrong with that? Why waste time beating around the bush?"
She spread some salad dressing on a piece of bread. Had Dad already talked to him?