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“Yes. But we are getting the cowboy.”
“You’re a child,” she said.
“I thought I was an old man.”
“Angus McCloud,” she muttered, grabbing the cowboy and putting it in the cart.
Then she stepped back toward the produce, and chose some avocados and other things that they weren’t able to grow in the garden at Sullivan’s Point.
If she got caught buying pitted fruits, she would be disowned forever.
“What are we having tonight?”
“Tacos and guacamole?”
“Yeah. I can dig that.”
“All right. But I hope you are not expecting homemade bread and the kinds of things that Evelyn Garrett comes up with. Or Violet. Or my sisters. I am not my sisters.”
“I know,” he said.
“You should learn to cook,” she said. “It would be fun.”
“I don’t think it would be. And why would I do that?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Because. You have someone to cook for now.”
CHAPTER SIX
HERWORDSRANGin his head the whole rest of the next day.
He had someone to cook for now.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But if anything made him want to learn how to fry an egg, it was that.
The thing about his house. He had a well-worn path he moved through. Rooms he went into every day, rooms he didn’t go in at all. It was a necessity, like sleeping and eating. The thing about eating was it was something he had to do to fuel himself for work.
He just didn’t think a whole lot about his own comfort.
He had always rationalized that with the fact that he had gone through a horrific injury and a hellish recovery.
His dad had been mad about that too. Had to declare medical bankruptcy after Gus’s long-term stay in the hospital.
Burns were a bitch. They didn’t just heal.
He’d had rehab and recovery and all kinds of shit. Surgeries. He didn’t have feeling in the place where the burns were the worst. And he sort of figured...it was the kind of thing that guarded him against good and bad sensations. Pain and pleasure.
He figured it had translated into other areas of his life. So he didn’t think much about what he ate, what he wore.
He liked sex, but he wasn’t obsessed with it. His life didn’t revolve around his own desires. That was the thing. But...she wanted to work at the ranch. And could he really ask her to do that and cook all the meals? They were having a kid. He wouldn’t want his son to do anything like that to a woman he married. And he sure as hell wouldn’t want his daughter to accept that.
He stood still for a moment, his heart frozen in his chest.
He’d committed to being a father and that meant modeling behavior.
He could have a little girl. And he knew...he just knew how terrible men could be, and the very idea of it terrified him.
So yeah. He supposed he needed to learn how to cook.
