“Put them in the master suite.”
“Yes, sir,” she grumbled, heading that way, bitching under her breath with every step.
Barron watched her go, trying not to let the smile that threatened to break free curl the corners of his lips. He looked through the contents of his fridge, then his pantry and opted for a quick throw together thing they could share. Nachos, complete with pepper jack and cheddar cheeses, leftover taco beef, sour cream, and guacamole. He began warming the leftover taco meat, and shredding the cheeses as Emmalyn put her things away, coming back into the living room twice to get her other bags. He could have offered to move them into the bedroom for her, but knew if he did it would be another argument about him not thinking she could do it herself, rather than a thank you for helping. So, he didn’t help.
By the time she’d finished putting her things away, he was already sitting on the sofa, a platter of fully loaded nachos in front of him, a beer for him, and a bottle of sweet tea for her.
“Hey, I thought you said you’d throw something together for us?” she asked, strolling into the living room and climbing over the back of the sofa to plop right beside him.
“I did. Not my fault you took too long and I started without you.”
Emmalyn didn’t even look at him, she was focused on the platter he held in his hand, deciding which was the best chip and scoop to start with. She reached her hand out to take the chip she’d chosen, but he’d been watching her assessing the nachosand grabbed the chip she wanted shoving it into his mouth quickly while he grinned around his mouth full and chewed.
“Ass,” she said, taking another one and crunching it happily.
“Why, yes, I excel at that.”
“I’m aware.”
“Not bad for throwing things together, huh?” he asked, as they both ate from the platter.
“You forgot jalapenos,” she said, eating another chip loaded with guacamole.
“I didn’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t eat them often enough to buy them.”
“I eat them. Often, too.”
“Then you buy some.”
Emmalyn stopped chewing and turned to look directly at him. “I had some at home. Maybe I should just go back there — and get some.”
Barron smiled coldly at her. “You could try. Or you could just eat the damn nachos I already made for us.”
She scoffed at him and scooped up some of the toppings with another couple of chips lying just at the edge of the platter. She picked up the bottle of sweet tea and looked at its label, scanning it quickly to see if it had lemon in it or not.
“It’s sweet tea,” he said.
“I know. Thank you for buying the one without lemon.”
“You’re welcome.”
She cracked the top on it, and tossed it to the coffee table before taking a long swig and crunching on another chip.
Several minutes later the platter was empty, Barron was relaxed on the sofa, with his feet propped up on the coffee table, his head lying on the overstuffed back of the sofa behind him. Emmalyn was curled up beside him with her feet beneath her.She looked his way, then over at the sofa to her left, then at him again.
“Problem?” he asked.
“You don’t have any blankets on the sofa.”
“They’re in the bedrooms.”
“Why don’t you have any out here?”
“Because I don’t sleep on the sofa.”
