Page 78 of The Cajun Doctor

It was nothing new. And more of the kind of heartache Daniel had chosen to escape when he’d left medicine. Still, he said, “I wish I could do more.”

“I know. We all do. Anyhow, take care and keep in touch.”

“Likewise.”

Daniel clicked off and turned back to Samantha.

“Good news about Lily Beth?” she asked.

“So far.” He pushed the cart out of the produce section and asked, “Where next?”

“Butcher shop.” Where she picked up some boneless chicken breasts and andouille sausage.

“Planning on doing some cooking?”

“Just a big pot of gumbo. That, with some rice and good bread should feed our small crowd, and the leftovers, if there are any, won’t take up much room in the old fridge.”

“So, you’re a cook, as well as accountant, fund-raiser, and animal rescuer?”

“I don’t do all that much cooking, but every Southern girl knows how to make her grandmother’s gumbo.”

“And Southern boys?”

“Their job is . . . always has been . . . to provide the meat or fish for the pot. The providers.”

“Even if it was just possum from the bayou.”

She nodded. “Or crawfish. We do love our crawfish.”

“I got pretty good at catching crawfish while I lived in that bayou fishing camp.”

She hitched a hip and tilted her head at him. “Is that an offer to become my . . . provider?”

He laughed. “Hardly. A few crawfish does not a provider make.”

“Holy jambalaya!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I just noticed. You have a dimple. Where have you been hiding that?”

Daniel pressed his lips together, trying to retract the dimple, to no avail. But then, when he noticed the way she licked her lips when she stared at said dimple, he let it go. He was no fool. If dimples were one more step in her lust parade, he would be the drum major. “I have only one,” he told her, as if that were important. “On my right side only. Aaron has one on his left side. Twins and all that.”

She grinned and reached up a fingertip to touch his dimple.

Which felt a whole lot like she was touching him somewhere else.

Before he said or did something even more stupid than he already had, Daniel decided to move on and get them out of this supermarket and back to the plantation and sanity. Or something even better.

To Daniel’s surprise, there was an aisle devoted to small household appliances. “In a supermarket?”

“It’s not your mama’s old-time grocery store,” Samantha remarked with a proud smile. She suggested he get another cart, and they loaded up with an electric can opener, a toaster, a small microwave, and a big Crock-Pot.

At the bakery, she picked out two long baguettes and a sliced sourdough bread loaf for sandwiches. She also insisted that she had to get a large fruit tart . . . one of Lily Beth’s favorites, apparently . . . that resembled a pizza covered with a cream cheese mixture, then strawberries, blueberries, pineapple, grapes, and kiwi. Forget Lily Beth; it looked good to him, too.

He grabbed a jar of tupelo honey and arched his eyebrows at her.

At the deli, she picked up some sliced lunch meat. Then, she moved on to get a small sack of flour, Cajun seasonings, a bag of rice, eggs, butter, milk, and orange juice. Also, mustard, mayonnaise, and Tabasco sauce, also known as Cajun lightning.

“Good Lord! I thought you said we should buy only a few things that would fit in that small fridge.”

She shrugged. “Most of these items need no refrigeration. Besides, your very accommodating sales clerk promised to have the fridge and mattress set delivered this afternoon. By tonight, we should hopefully have a fridge big enough to hold a side of beef. If it fits!”