Page 14 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

In the kitchen I found Grace taking her seat at the table. She set two glasses of red wine beside two plates that were already served.

“It smells amazing,” I said.

She looked up and smiled. “It tastes even better. Take a seat.” Grace gestured to the chair across from her.

“What do we have here?” I asked while I sat down.

Grace pointed to the plate. “These arebalsamic-and-honey-glazed brussels sprouts with bacon. I picked them myself.”

“You know how to pick brussels sprouts?” I raised an eyebrow in a teasing way.

“Of course. They sell them by the stalk at the farmers markets in the city.”

I let on a grin and nodded.

“This right here,” she pointed, “ishoney-glazedsalmon with a spicy soy sauce.”

I laid a napkin in my lap, never taking my eyes off of her. “You are an impressive woman.”

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.” I held out my glass.

She picked hers up and tilted her head. “What are wecheers-ingto?”

“To proper meals and good company.” I wanted to addthat lasts foreverbut I left it out. Coming on too strong was a quick way to get shot down. I knew from experience.

Grace smiled and clinked hers against mine. “Cheers.”

I watched her bottom lip press against the glass as she swallowed the liquid, and then I took my drink. I wanted that bottom lip. It was plump and begged to be bitten or sucked on. I ran my tongue against my teeth and imagined sinking them into her.

“Almost forgot. Shall we say grace first, Grace,” I said, extending my hand out to hers.

She shook her head and looked awkwardly at me and then at her plate. “I’m not religious.”

I retracted my hand. “Yeah, me neither. I just like tradition. My mistake.” I grabbed my fork and dove into the brussels sprouts first, just to get them out of the way. If I still had my dog, I’d have “accidentally” tossed these things on the ground for him to eat. But he passed last spring. Most things didn’t survive this ranch. I was the exception.

Grace watched me, waiting for my reaction.

“These are fantastic,” I lied through a mouth full of food. “Hands down, best sprouts I’ve ever had.” The second part wasn’t a lie. I had eaten a single one when I was a child and immediately spit it out. I gulped red wine, forcing thosefart-smelling, poor excuse of a vegetable down my throat.

She smiled wide. I’d lie to Grace every day to keep her happy. “Okay, now the salmon...” she pointed at my plate.

I sliced through the corner of it and scooped it onto my fork. The refreshing taste of the fish mixed with the sweetness of the honey, the saltiness of the soy, and the spiciness of the hot sauce melded together perfectly. “Incredible,” I said in between bites, and I meant it.

Grace beamed and then proceeded to finally start eating. She was pleased that I was pleased. I liked that about her.

“You feeling all right after the chicken incident?” I asked. I hoped that hadn’t scared her away but she seemed to have already put it behind her.

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head. “I’ll admit, it was quite jarring, but I understand things like that happen out here.”

“I lost the whole flock when I first took over the ranch. Coop wasn’t secured enough and a weasel got in there.” I shook my head and sipped my wine.

“A weasel? Aren’t those tiny little things?”

“Yep. They don’t weigh more than a pound, but they’re killers. They can slink through something as small as the diameter of a wedding ring.” I shoveled a forkful of salmon into my mouth.

Grace took small bites and chewed many times before she swallowed. “How’d you know it was a weasel?”

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