Page 63 of More Than a Hero
Bob grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his wife’s cheek before waving for Pete to follow. “When it’s just me and Roseann, we do a lot of cooking together. But when the whole family is over, she likes her women in the kitchen so they can gossip.” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “After the meal, we men will clean up, and then we can gossip too.”
Pete chuckled, following him into the living room, where Grandpa Stan was already reclining comfortably in his chair.
The house was small, but it felt lived in—loved. The open floor plan made everything feel connected, giving an easy flow to the space. The furniture was warm and inviting, with neutral tones, but splashes of color in the pillows and decor reminded Pete of Angie’s style. Family pictures covered the walls, interspersed with framed paintings, their vibrant swirls of color catching his eye.
“I see you’re looking at the paintings,” Bob said, setting his beer down. “That’s Roseann’s work. She doesn’t paint as much these days, but she used to.”
Pete took another glance at the art before nodding. “They’re really nice, Bob. I don’t pretend to know much about art, but I know what I like.”
Grandpa Stan let out a gruff chuckle. “That’s what I always said. When Bob first brought Roseann around and told me shewas an artist, I worried it’d be that weird modern stuff. But then I saw the way her colors blended, I liked it.”
Bob shook his head, amused. “Dad, just admit it… you liked everything about Roseann from the moment you met her.”
Stan smirked, not even bothering to deny it. “That’s true. My son picked out a lovely woman.” He looked toward Pete with a sharp but approving nod. “And that seems to be a trait you share. My granddaughter Angie is as sweet as they come.”
Pete met his gaze, his answer coming without hesitation. “I’d have to agree with you, Stan.”
Before Stan could respond, Bob leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. “She tells me you’re a detective?—”
“Stop interrogating him!” Roseann’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
Bob chuckled, raising his voice in response. “Well, dear, you shooed us out of the kitchen!”
“Yes, but if you ask him all the questions now, then we won’t hear the answers, and we’ll just have to ask them again during dinner,” Roseann shot back. “And then he’ll have to repeat himself.”
Angie appeared in the doorway, fighting back a grin. But her amusement won, and she let out a soft laugh. She met Pete’s gaze, her expression full of quiet amusement as she mouthed, “You okay?”
The idea of being interrogated by her family should have terrified him. But instead, something settled in his chest. These people forming this loud, affectionate, involved, loving family were important to Angie. And if he wanted to be in her life, that meant they would become important to him too.
He smiled, nodding once. “I’m okay.”
Roseann rushed in, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Well, we can sit down to dinner, and then we can all find out about Pete.”
“Mom!” Angie huffed. “I don’t want to scare him off!”
Roseann pressed her lips together, fixing her daughter with an innocent look before turning to Pete. “I promise I won’t scare you off!”
Pete chuckled. “I think I can handle it.”
The men stood and followed the women into the dining room. The table was already set in a way that said family. It wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was about being together.
Angie guided him to a seat beside her, and as he settled in, he leaned in closer. “I wish I’d stopped to get flowers.”
She shook her head. “No. This is just us. They wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything for them.” Her grin widened. “They just want me happy.”
Pete let his fingers brush against hers under the table, giving them a gentle squeeze. “And do I make you happy?”
Her gaze softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “Absolutely.”
The moment stretched between them, quiet but full. Then the sounds of plates clinking and food being passed around brought them back to the present.
As Pete took in the warmth of the family gathered around the table, he noticed something. Both Angie and Roseann had pushed their glasses to the tops of their heads in the same absent-minded way. The action made him grin.
The casualness of the meal… the simple dishes, the lack of fancy wineglasses or expensive serving platters, felt like an invitation rather than an expectation.
“I hope you don’t mind homestyle,” Roseann said as she handed him a plate. “We’re just family here.”
Pete accepted it, his voice steady when he answered.
