I hear a squeal in the house and footsteps running up the steps to the door. “Mama Mabel’s?”
“You bet.”
Wrenching her crappy door open, she hugs me and announces, “I think I love you.” She pulls back and blinks up at me. Her cheeks are deep pink. “Sorry. I get really excited about food.” Almost as an afterthought, she announces, “I do like you a lot, though.”
I have to laugh. This woman is damned funny. “I like you a lot, too, goofball. Now, can I put this stuff down?” I waggle my eyebrows at her as I step past her to place the bags and the large box on the counter.
“I know I said I was starving, but I can’t eat all that. I’ll try, but I think it’s beyond even my capabilities,” Mackenzie says doubtfully.
“I bought enough for Lauren and you, plus my crew outside.” I look around. “Where is Lauren?”
“She’ll be here a little later,” she says absently. Raising one eyebrow, she adds, “Why is your crew outside?”
“They’re getting set up,” I say, attempting to deflect her from that subject.
“Set up for what?” Obviously, Mackenzie isn’t going to let me deflect.
“They’re here to install some motion-sensor lights outside. We’re also changing the lock on your door.” I point to the cheap lock. “That lock is all but worthless for providing any security. I’ve also ordered a new steel door to replace the wooden one, but that won’t be in until Wednesday. This old door of yoursisn’t safe; it’s insubstantial and it’s got a flimsy window in it. Somebody could break that glass easily.” The new door is a Browning six-panel door. It costs a pretty penny, but it’s the best door for the money.
“Sam, no. I don’t want you to do all of that. I can’t pay…. It’s too expensive.” She looks uncomfortable.
“Everything aside from the door is equipment we have lying around the warehouse. It doesn’t cost anything, so don’t worry about it.”
She studies my face like she’s wondering if I’m lying about the equipment. She sighs. “Okay, fine. But I’m paying for the door.”
“Sure thing, sweets.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Sam? I’d give you hell for this if I wasn’t starving and thought I could make it another minute without food. However, luck is on your side.” She glares at me unconvincingly. She’s damn cute when she’s being bossy.
Turning away, MacKenzie reaches into the box. She pulls out a large tin to-go casserole dish with a white cardboard top. She holds it up like she’s offering a sacrifice. “This innocuous pan holds the world’s best macaroni and cheese, Sam.” She grins naughtily. “It’s better than an orgasm.”
My head rears back. “Oh, sweetheart, there’s nothing better than an orgasm.”
But before I’ve even finished my sentence, she shoves a spoon of the warm, gooey, cheesy pasta into my mouth. “Oh my God. Itisgood.” I reach for the spoon. “Give me that spoon. That stuff is delicious.” I should have guessed from the crowd in the packed restaurant that the food must be good. I dip the spoon into the pan again while she reaches for a huge spoonful of mac and cheese for herself.
“Just wait. Wait till you try the chicken,” MacKenzie mumbles with her mouth full. Spooning in another bite, sheturns her attention to the rest of the containers, pulling them out of the bags one by one. She oohs and ahhs at each food container. Holding another tin pan with a clear top, she looks up at me. “You got biscuits?” She sighs like she’s won a thousand bucks. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, Sam Stone. You’re going to make someone an excellent wife someday.”
I nearly choke on the bite of mac and cheese filling my mouth. “A wonderful wife? Did you just say that?” I laugh heartily and pat her on the cheek. “MacKenzie, where have you been all my life?” Putting my spoon down, I walk around the counter and pull her into my arms. “Seriously? Where have you been?” I lean down and kiss her cheesy lips. I’d like to lick her lips, but I’m afraid she’d punch me for taking her cheese.
But she’s forgotten about the food. “Right here,” she whispers. “I’ve been right here.”
I kiss her lips again, gently. “I know. It took me a long time to find you.”
She pulls away from me, looking nervous. I think she’s feeling anxious about the serious turn the conversation has taken. Looking in the last bag, she says, “So, what else did you get? OMG. You got apple pie? Mama Mabel makes the greatest apple pie.”
I didn’t know I’d bought a pie, but maybe Mama Mabel threw it in as a bonus. I’m pretty sure the prices got marked up when she saw me get out of my SUV. This spread cost me $250. Plus, I tipped her another fifty—maybe that paid for the pie.
“Try this,” she says, jamming a piece of fried chicken into my hand. I take a bite and chew. I feel my eyes roll back into my head.
“Holy hell. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place. You’d think it would be on a list of Chicago’s best eateries. Or maybe the Midwest’s.”
“I know, right?” She takes a big bite of chicken, and before she’s done with that, she’s bitten into a buttery biscuit. I take the biscuit from her and do the same.
“Okay, the chicken and the biscuit together are the best flavor yet.”
She smiles at me between bites. I love that she’s comfortable eating in front of me. I’ve always hated eating with women who are obsessed about their weight and total caloric intake. It’s no fun to take a woman to dinner who picks at a tiny house salad while I devour a steak and baked potato. Actually, it’s annoying as hell. I grin happily as I look over at her. I’m so glad she’s a foodie. I am, too. Something we have in common.
Without thinking, I blurt out, “I love that you eat like a man.”
