“Of course, not. You’d worry your pretty little head senseless about any male you happened to desert after you bothered to save him.”
“I didn’t desert you! I told you I had to go, I told you I’d be back as soon as I could, and I was only gone two days.”
“I remember.”
“Do you also remember growling at me and hissing at me?!” she demanded.
“I do. And you left anyway.”
“How was I supposed to know that your hissing meant not to go? And I had to go!”
“It’s fine. Deserting your male when he’s struggling to survive is completely understandable.”
She walked over closer to him, getting all up in his space as she glared up into his eye. “My cousin was attacked and almost killed. He stuffed her unconscious body into my fucking freezer, in this very house!” she said slowly, calmly, her fury just almost coming out to slap at him.
His arrogant smile faded. “I didn’t know, cher. I’m sorry.”
“I had to come back because if she hadn’t lived I’d have never forgiven myself for not coming to say goodbye.”
He inclined his head.
She stomped around him to the refrigerator and yanked it open, took out two T-bone steaks and slammed them onto the counter top.”If you’re going to cook, at least make it worth your while. I like mine medium rare.”
She turned and walked past him.
“Hellen?” he asked, his voice devoid of all sarcasm and taunting.
She stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder at him.
“Did they get him? Because if not, I have some hunting to do.”
“They got him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, and she walked away, leaving him to whatever he planned to do while she went to her bedroom to dry her hair and put on something other than the flimsy nightgown she’d thrown on.
He watched her go before turning on the cast iron grill portion of her gas stove and tearing open the packages of steaks. He salted and peppered them on both sides, then dug through the pantry to find something to go with them. Uninspired by the options he found, he microwaved a frozen bag of corn, added mayo, crystal hot sauce, Parmesan cheese, butter, salt and pepper, stirred it all up and called it Mexican corn. True it didn’t have any real peppers or Mexican cheese in it, but it was better than nothing.
Ten minutes later he was plating the steaks with a couple of huge spoons of Mexican corn beside each steak when she walked back into the kitchen.
“Smells good,” she said.
“There’s not much I do well. Cooking is one of them,” he said as he walked over to the table and put both plates down.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting down.
“Got anything other than water to drink?” he asked.
“Iced tea. And there are a few beers left in the fridge.”
“Ahhh, beer. The perfect drink,” he said, taking two of them out of the fridge and twisting the tops off before handing her one.
He sat down across from her and held out his beer for her to clink hers against.
She glared for a second before picking up her beer and clinking the neck of the bottle against his.
“To new starts,” he said.
“This is not your new start.”
