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He shrugged one big shoulder. “Possibly. I’m considering a blue-gray shade, too, with white trim.”
“That would look good if it’s more blue than gray.” She looked around the interior. Haybales were stacked five high on a wood floor to the right. Overhead was a loft, but she couldn’t see what he kept there. Straight ahead was a path between stalls on the left and a room on the right, which turned out to be the tack room.
Ancient, rusted farming and ranching tools that were at least a century old hung from the walls throughout the barn.
Just as she peeked into the tack room, her alarm went off. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dismissed it on the screen before tucking her cell away again. “Are you ready to eat?”
“I’m hungry enough to eat the whole pan.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets as they walked back. “You might have to fight me for a piece.”
“That’s a big pan.” She patted his taut belly through his T-shirt. “You might lose these great abs.”
He caught her hand, brought her knuckles to his mouth, and kissed them. She shivered from the brush of his lips against her skin. He linked his fingers with hers and led her back to the house.
The Border collies busied themselves by one of the corrals, enthusiastically sniffing the yellow grass and stones.
“Looks like the girls might be trying to get hold of a lizard,” Tyson said. “They’ve only caught one once that I know of.”
“Go, lizard.” Haylee smiled. She loved the feel of his big hand holding hers. It felt comfortable, like they’d done it a thousand times before.
Once in the kitchen, Tyson grabbed potholders from a drawer by the stove. Heat rolled out of the oven when he opened the door, and the enchiladas sizzled. He set the pan on the stove, and Haylee pulled off the foil. Gooey cheese stuck to part of the covering, and the sauce bubbled.
“It needs to cool about ten minutes.” She retrieved the salad bag out of the fridge. “Where is a cutting board and a knife?”
“I need to contribute somehow.” He got the items out of a drawer and a cabinet. “I’ll cut up the pepper.”
Haylee sat on a swivel stool in front of the island. “What’s your idea of a home-cooked meal?”
He looked at her with amusement. “Are we talking about what I fix for myself or what I’d like?”
She watched as his long fingers wrapped around the knife handle, and he cut the pepper in half. “Tell me first what you make for yourself.”
“For the ranch hands, we have pinto beans, cornbread, fried chicken, and other stuff that’s easy to make.” He shrugged. “For myself, fried Spam sandwiches, boxed mac and cheese, and TV dinners are good enough.”
Haylee stared at him, half-horrified, half-amused. “And I thought I was awful about cooking. I’ll throw together casseroles and real mac and cheese, spaghetti, and other things that don’t require a lot of talent.”
“Sounds like heaven to me.” He finished cutting up the pepper and got a big bowl for the salad. “When Callahan’s kids sold me this place, they left me his well-stocked kitchen or my cabinets would be bare of things like bowls and cooking utensils. Apparently, the old man was quite the cook.”
“Good thing, or we’d be eating out of the salad bag with our fingers.” Haylee smiled. “Where are your plates?”
“I’ll grab those, and you can get the forks.” He pointed to a drawer.
Haylee retrieved them, tore off a couple of paper towels, and folded them for napkins while Tyson got the salad dressings and a pitcher of iced tea. He poured two tall glasses of tea.
They loaded their plates and sat close to each other at his dining table. Haylee wasn’t shy about eating her fill in front of a man. It was silly how some of her friends would only eat salads on dates, and she had told them that. They had just laughed, and Haylee had shaken her head.
During dinner, they talked about people they knew in common and shared things about their friends. Tyson’s best friends were her brothers, Brady and Bear, but he did have a beer at Mickey’s Bar and Grill with a couple of other guys on occasion.
“I have a pretty good circle of friends, but I’m closest with my sisters.” She slid her fork into more of the enchiladas. “We fought a lot when we were young, but no more than normal from what I’ve seen. Once we got out of high school and did some growing up, we became closer as sisters and good friends as well.”
Tyson looked thoughtful. “My brothers stuck together, and I was always on the outside, being several years younger. We never grew beyond that and see each other at my dad’s or around town.” He met Haylee’s gaze. “I’ve never known anything different, so I haven’t felt like I’ve missed anything.”
She cocked her head to the side. “What was it like for you growing up?”
“I hero-worshipped my older brothers, but they chased me off when I tried to hang around those two. Dad spent more time with them, and I always felt like I was living in their shadow.” He shrugged. “I was closer to my mom, but she passed away when I was in my teens.”
Haylee put her hand over his. “I’m sorry. You must miss her terribly.”
“I do.” Tyson turned his hand over and linked his fingers through hers. “I know she would have liked you.”
