Page 35 of Hearts Don't Lie
“I don’t know much either, other than what I like. We have a great wine store in town. The owner, a friend of mine, turned me on to this. And a few others.” She continued stirring.
“I see,” he said, immediately regretting his words and accusatory tone.
She fidgeted, then whipped around. “No, you don’t.” Mac pointed at him with the large nonstick spoon she was using. “And our friendship is none of your business.” She faced the stove again, shoulders rising with a deep inhale. “You can help me.”
“What can I do?” he asked warily.
“Bring me the cheese.”
Hardin sidled next to her, delighted to help.
“Add it in slowly. I don’t want the roux to burn. It’s a perfect brown color now.”
He watched the cheese melt in the hot roux.
“Okay, that’s enough cheese. We want to save some for the top. Well done.” She handed him the spoon without glancing at him. “Keep stirring while I mix the vegetables in with the pasta,” she said, placing the large cast-iron skillet on the other front burner and depositing the mixture into it. “Okay, pour the cheese sauce over.”
Mac lowered the flame and stirred to combine everything.
“It smells incredible.”
“Wait until it comes out of the oven.” She turned off the flame and topped the pie with more shredded cheese and crushed crackers and bacon. “Okay, this is ready. Can you open the oven?”
After the oven door was closed, he asked, “What now?”
“We wait.” She set the timer on her smart watch, refilled her wine and added to his, lifting her glass in salute, her genuine smile reaching her eyes. “And drink more wine. Cheers.”
They ate at the round teak table on the patio, which glowed under the soft party lights and glimmering candles she had lit. The meal was one of the best he’d had in years.
Mac’s guard had lowered with each sip of wine, and she now lounged back in her chair, her glass empty. “We can open another bottle if you want.”
His posture mirrored hers. “I want.” He definitely wanted.
“I thought our trip was closure.”
He shook his head and chuckled, staring deeply into those brown eyes of hers. “Not even close, Mac.” He watched her swallow, pleased his comment hit its mark. “I’ll get the wine.”
“No, you won’t.” She rose and gathered the dishes and utensils. “You’re my guest.”
He didn’t respond but watched Mac disappear into the house, once again admiring her beautiful shape. She appeared steady on her feet. Good. He hoped her head was just as steady. Hardin didn’t want to be herguest.He wanted more. Much, much more—to reclaim what they once had and build on it. His gut told him their foundation of friendship, trust, and love was still there. Solid beneath all the lies and deceit. The wine and his patience were slowly but surely cracking her open.
Mac came back out with an opened second bottle.
Hardin took it from her and poured the wine and held up his glass, saluting Mac. “To more of this wonderful evening and getting further reacquainted.”
“To a nice evening. Thank you. It’s been pleasant.” She raised her glass and drank, then walked over to the patio seating and sat on the all-weather wicker sofa, drawing her legs up sideways.
He settled into a large Adirondack facing her, stretching his long legs out in front of him, thoroughly enjoying the fact that her shorts had inched higher. “I’m always pleasant.”
“When you aren’t being a cocky ass.”
“You helped me tone that down long ago.”
“It seems your cockiness has made a resurgence, Hardin. Not pretty.” She motioned her glass at him. “Yellow cards. Red cards. Parties. Women.”
He set his glass down on the side table next to him and leaned forward. “Interesting. You said that during our hiking adventure.”
“So what?”
