AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She began to shake her head, but then realized she was hungry. Taking a sip from the wine, she arched an eyebrow. “What do you have?”
“I made chili earlier. I’ll heat it up.”
Wyatt busied himself in the small kitchen, and once the chili was on the stove, he grabbed his wine and headed for the fireplace. Regan slid onto the sofa, which was decidedly comfortable, and watched as he loaded up the fireplace with kindling. It didn’t take long for flames to lick over the logs. Once that was done, Wyatt headed back to the kitchen, where he promptly pulled together garlic bread with cheese and set the small table.
By the time the food was ready, Regan’s stomach rumbled, embarrassingly loud.
“I don’t think I’ve eaten since lunch,” she murmured, her mouth watering as she sat at the table. Wyatt passed a bowl of grated cheese, and she topped her chili with it before reaching for a piece of bread. The food smelled amazing, and she took a spoonful.
It was a little slice of heaven in her mouth.
“This is delicious,” she said. “Surprise number two. I never would have thought of you as a guy who spends a lot of time in the kitchen.”
Wyatt reached for some bread. “And why’s that?”
“I…” She was at a loss. “I don’t know. Not many men I know cook.” Heck, her brother could handle soup from the can and that was about it. As for her father? Well, the kitchen had always been her mother’s domain.
“You’re obviously not hanging out with the right men.”
“I guess not.” She laughed and finished her wine. “Who taught you to cook?”
Wyatt was silent for a few moments. “My mom loved to be in the kitchen. In that great big house, it was the one room she ruled. Dinnertime was family time, and no excuses allowed. We all had to be in our places, faces and hands clean, at five o’clock, or there would be hell to pay. At least, it was like that in the beginning.”
He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. “After she died, I thought I could still feel her in that room. I mean, I knew she wasn’t there, but all the things she loved were, so I hung out in the kitchen a lot.” He shrugged. “Then Darlene came along, and she loved to cook as much as my mother. Maybe more.” A soft smile tugged up his lips, and Regan’s heart jerked.
“She put me to work, and I guess I had the knack for it.”
“Well, you make a mean chili.”
“This is nothing.” Wyatt sat back in his chair. “Anyone can make chili.”
Regan shook her head, accepting a second glass of wine. “Um, I wouldn’t say that. I can handle pasta and sauce and that’s about it. Cooking is definitely not my forte.”
“Maybe not, but you save lives.”
Just like that, reality kicked in. Not everyone.
Shit. That knot was back in her throat, and the tears she thought she’d banished poked at the corners of her eyes. They were hot and sharp, and she blinked rapidly, turning her head slightly as she tried to get a hold on the rush of emotion that had come from nowhere.
“I try to,” she managed to say. “It doesn’t always work out that way.”
Silence fell between them, and without a word, Wyatt got to his feet. He cleared the table. He put the food away and rinsed the dishes. He turned off the light and stood behind her, his heat radiating out and touching the back of her neck.
The fire was the only thing that threw light, and shadows danced along the wall, moving in rhythm to the crackling flames.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked. “Tonight? What made you sad?”
Slowly, she shook her head and whispered, “No.”
“You want to sit in front of the fire?”
Again, she managed a whisper. “Yes.”
She looked to the side, and his hand was there, open, palm up, waiting for her. Regan wasn’t exactly sure what was happening or what she was doing, or if any of it mattered. She exhaled and slipped her hand into his.
Just like before, and yet…
Not.
