“We all are.”
“I’ll have to disagree with you there. You’re fudging perfect. Don’t change a thing.”
She laughed. “I’m not perfect. Just ask Claudie.”
“She’s welcome to her opinion. I’m sticking with mine.”
“You’re crazy.”
“About you.”
“You’re not so bad, yourself, cowboy.” Ah, this was more like it. He’d shaken off whatever ghosts had been summoned by that music in the General Store.
He’d had a tough childhood, no doubt about it. But now he was surrounded by the Bridger Bunch. It might take time, but he’d be okay. She’d see to it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When it came to grocery shopping during the Christmas season, Cole had become so good at ignoring the music and decorations that he’d already navigated the Mustang Valley Market several times this month without breaking a sweat.
But he’d never enjoyed the process of buying food for himself regardless of the time of year. Having Mila along dramatically changed the program for the better.
He ended up checking out with a cart full of colorful veggies he never would have bought on his own — carrots maybe, but red beets, broccoli and sweet potatoes? Not at all. Her excitement about the fresh produce aisle was irresistible.
She’d clearly decided his diet needed an upgrade from chips, burgers and beer to healthier options. He couldn’t disagree. If that upgrade included her presence in his kitchen, he was all for it.
She was still focused on the topic as they loaded the groceries in her truck and headed for the ranch.
“I can’t believe you don’t eat sweet potatoes.” She said it as if he was missing out on the treat of a lifetime.
He shrugged. “Between the tedious job of cooking and mashing the potatoes and trying not to burn the marshmallow topping, they’re too fussy for me.”
“Which is why we’re going to bake them and top them with sour cream.”
“Sour cream? On sweet potatoes?”
“You’ve never tried it?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve only had them mashed and baked with marshmallows.”
“Trust me, you’ll love the savory and sweet combo.”
“Okay.” How easily she said that simple phrase. Trust me. And how quickly he’d agreed to trust her… on the sweet potato issue. And on most things, really. But not on everything.
Hard to do when he couldn’t even trust himself. He’d failed to hold it together in the General Store. She hadn’t mentioned it, likely because she didn’t want to dig into it. Who would?
But now Christmas Eve loomed on the horizon like the thunderheads currently moving in from the west.
“I also like topping sweet potatoes with a cheese sauce, but that’s more work.” Mila flipped up the visor as the sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds. “I’ve been too busy to check the weather. This must be the snow they said might come in.”
“Let me look.” He consulted the weather app on his phone. “Seventy-five percent chance starting at six tonight.”
“How much?”
“Ten to twelve inches.”
“Not too bad. If we’re lucky, it’ll snow tonight and then clear off for the rest of the week.”
“Hope so.”
