Bacon.
Fruit.
Jesus Christ.
“You cooked all this?”
“Yes, Grant. Pancakes don’t magically appear in mountain farmhouses.”
He huffed a laugh under his breath and moved farther into the kitchen.
The smell alone nearly killed him.
“You trying to make me fall in love with you or something?”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Izzy looked at him.
Grant immediately reached for the coffee pot like it had personally betrayed him.
“What I meant was?—”
“I know what you meant,” she said, trying not to smile.
He muttered something under his breath and dragged a hand across the back of his neck.
“Sit down,” Izzy told him.
“I can fix my own plate.”
“I’m aware. Sit anyway.”
Grant obeyed mostly because she smelled like vanilla and coffee and looked entirely too comfortable standing in his kitchen.
He dropped into the chair while she carried over a loaded plate.
“Good Lord,” he said.
“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
“I’m already emotional.”
Izzy laughed softly and set the plate in front of him.
Grant watched her move around the kitchen while he took the first bite.
Then another.
Then another.
His eyes closed briefly.
“Oh, damn.”
“Told you.”
“No, seriously.” He pointed his fork at her. “If Naomi finds out you cook like this, she’s gonna try to adopt you into the farm permanently.”
