I smiled. “Thank you. Really.”
She winked. “Anytime.” Then she glanced at Tex. “Try not to scare her off—I like her.”
He smirked slightly. “No promises.”
Jordan laughed and headed out the door and the house fell quiet again. I turned toward the kitchen and stopped.
Tex had set the table with two plates and some cutlery and even two wine glasses he must have found from the back of one of the cupboards.
The food was out already, steam rising from the plates. And in the center of the table a candle flickered softly, casting warm light across the room.
My chest tightened unexpectedly. “You did all this?” I asked quietly.
He shrugged, suddenly looking almost unsure of himself. “Figured you deserved a decent meal after everything you’ve been through recently.”
“You’ve been running around cooking for me for days.”
“Bacon and eggs ain’t proper cooking, sweetheart.”
For a moment I stood there, just looking at him. At the man who fought like a storm, who carried me through gunfire, and was now stood in my kitchen lighting candles like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And I had no idea what to do with how that made me feel.
