Page 24 of Luck Be Mine
Before she could scrounge for energy to move the meal to the table, Hunt came back and transferred the plates before she could fret about it. She took the salad and followed behind. “Can you get the salad dressing from the fridge?”
“Uh, sure. We have salad dressing?”
“Yes.” She kept her laugh under wraps.
“I heard that.” He came back with two bottles. His ranch. Her Italian.
He helped her with her chair, and she sat with relief, taking a moment to settle the pain and discomfort.
Hunt grabbed his fork and glanced at her. “Not eating?”
“Waiting for you to try in case it sucks because I forgot something in the recipe.”
“I’m your guinea pig?” He studied her face to ascertain if she was pulling his leg.
“Yep.” She didn’t give herself away. Honestly, the man had grown up with no one giving a shit about what he ate, if he was cold, sick, in trouble. She would be the one going forward who he could depend on to remember all those things including his favorite foods.
“I eat anything.”
“But you don’t like everything. I trust you enough to tell me if I got it wrong.”
“Is this how it’s going to work going forward?”
“Yeah. I’ll post the ones you like to the refrigerator, and the ones you don’t care for will disappear and never be made again.”
“You don’t have to do this for me.”
“I do, too. It’s in the marriage rules. The one who cooks cares about what the other likes to eat.” She lifted her fork and cut a bite.
“You made that up.”
“Of course I did. Where do you think married rules come from? A marriage fairy? It’s sorta like the communication ones we made in Afghanistan.”
Hunt beat her to a bite. He froze and for a minute she thought she had blown it. She’d been so careful.
He didn’t say a word, only kept chewing. His eyes closed, and he licked his lips before taking another bite.
“You like it, right?” Her sigh and the fist pump stayed internal.
“I could eat half of this pan.” Hunt eyed the dish, a flash of something in his eyes.
“Eat half of it, babe. We aren’t in a restaurant where every bite costs fifty bucks. You get to eat whatever you want in your own home.”
“Are you gonna eat? Your eyes are going closed over there.” He shifted his chair closer and ran a finger over her right arm in a sweet caress. She had no self-control when he touched her.Getting zapped again, version 3.0. 1.0 the first time they’d met. 2.0 her third tour to find him, and 3.0 in their home.
She took a bite and gasped as the rich flavor hit her tongue. Her closed eyes signaled great food, but that triggered another truth. She’d been awake too long and was on the verge of being leveled by pain.
She forced her eyes open and took another bite. Food fueled healing. “Do you like it? Fridge posting or no?”
“Fridge posting.”
“Fabulous. I’ll take any leftovers and put them in the freezer. If you come home some night late and hungry, you’ll have something.”
Hunt cleared his plate and went back for seconds before she finished half of hers. But his enjoyment made the intense frustration of the afternoon cooking session worth it.
He came back to the table with a larger second helping and dished up salad. “Want some?”
“Yes. Please.” He put some on her plate. He watched her munch this time, leaving his fork in his hand.
