"Yes, sir. I just talked to my mom.”
"Good." Thomas headed for his truck, then paused. "Be safe, you two. I'll see you in the morning."
Grant and Riley stood in the barn doorway, watching the snow fall heavier and faster, already starting to accumulate on the ground.
"Looks like it's just us," Riley said.
"Yeah." Grant pulled her closer. "That okay?"
"Very okay."
They closed up the barn and headed inside as the storm picked up. Grant built a fire while Riley explored the kitchen, and by the time the power flickered and died completely, they had candles lit and the house warming from the fireplace.
"So," Riley said, surveying the kitchen. "What's for dinner when you can't use the oven?"
"Grilled cheese and soup?"
Riley's face lit up. "Your mom's grilled cheese?"
Grant felt his chest warm. "You remember that?"
"Are you kidding? Best grilled cheese I ever had. She made it for us that one time we got snowed in senior year." Riley leaned against the counter. "I've been trying to recreate it for ten years and it's never the same."
"That's because you don't know the secret."
"There's a secret?"
"There's always a secret." Grant pulled out bread, butter, and cheese from the fridge. "Come here. I'll show you." He went to grab their camping stove, which would allow them to cook just about anything they wanted, but definitely grilled cheese.
Riley joined him at the counter, and Grant talked her through it—the way his mom had taught him. Mayo on the outside of the bread instead of just butter. A pinch of garlic powder. The cheese had to be room temperature so it melted evenly. Low and slow on the cast iron skillet, not rushing it.
"Mayo?" Riley wrinkled her nose. "That sounds weird."
"Trust me."
They worked side by side, Grant guiding Riley's hands on the spatula, showing her when to flip. She was close enough that he could smell her shampoo, feel the warmth of her against his side.
"This feels very domestic," Riley said quietly.
"Is that bad?"
"No." She glanced up at him. "It's nice."
Grant's hand found the small of her back, his thumb tracing small circles. "Yeah. It is."
The sandwiches came out perfect—golden brown, cheese melted just right. They heated up tomato soup on the gas stove and carried everything to the living room, eating on the floor in front of the fire.
Riley took a bite of her grilled cheese and made a sound that Grant felt everywhere.
"Oh my god," she said. "That's it. That's the secret."
"Told you."
"I can't believe it's mayo." She took another bite. "Your mom was a genius."
"She really was."
They ate in comfortable silence, the fire crackling, snow pelting against the windows. When they finished, Grant madehot cocoa the way his mom used to—real chocolate, a pinch of cinnamon, tiny marshmallows on top.
