After setting her huge bag on the counter, she shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook by the door next to his. She had on a knit, gray dress that ended above her knees and hugged her curves like a glove; a thin, darker gray belt that accentuated her waist and gray tights he couldn’t wait to peel off her.

And if the grin she gave him as she walked toward him was anything to go by, she knew it.

What could he say? They had no more secrets from each other.

Pressing against his side, she peered into the pot he was still stirring, then shot her gaze to his, her eyes wide. “Is that what I think it is?” He nodded, and she set her arm on his shoulder to keep her balance while she rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “This looks amazing.”

Wrapping his free arm around her, he held her against his side. “Should be good. Unless Toby sabotaged me by forgetting” —he stopped stirring long enough to make air quotes around the last word— “to mention a vital ingredient. Which the bastard has done more than once.”

He hadn’t been joking, but she laughed anyway.

And because he loved the sound of her laugh, because even now it was still so rare, so precious, he bent his head while she was still laughing and kissed her, wanting to taste it on his lips. Wanting to capture it.

It was fucking amazing, doing something simply because he wanted to. Because he could. Because she let him.

Because she was his.

When he finally pulled back, she was still smiling, so he gave her another kiss, this one firm and quick.

“Want me to set the table?” she asked.

“That’d be great. I thought we’d eat in the dining room. Should be about another ten minutes before everything’s ready.”

He’d already sauteed the vegetables and made the roux, the low fire under it keeping it warm. All he needed was to finish the risotto and cook the shrimp.

“Miles,” she gasped and he turned to see she’d noticed the bouquet of flowers on the dining room table. “These are beautiful.”

He’d gone with something simpler this time; a mix of flowers in pinks and reds. He had no idea what most of them were, but they were bright and cheerful, and Tabitha let out a soft laugh of wonder as she touched a fingertip to one of the lighter pink one’s petals.

Yeah. He was getting better and better at making his girl happy.

“There’s a salad in the fridge,” he told her, going back to stirring. “It’s already dressed. And I picked up a baguette at St. Honore’s. It’s sliced and in the bread basket. Just need to uncover it.”

She shook her head as if gathering her thoughts. But she kept right on smiling. “Got it.”

He dipped a clean spoon into the risotto. Blew on it, then took a bite. Shrugged. Seemed al dente to him. Turning off the burner, he added the grated parmesan and butter, then stirred.

“How’d it go with Reed?” he asked.

Tabitha had texted him that she was going to stop at The Cockeyed Chameleon to see her brother after work.

“It was fine,” she said, grabbing plates from the upper cabinet.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

She set the plates on the counter, then got silverware out of the drawer. “No, it was. He was cordial, and at least he’s talking to me instead of that routine he did the first few weeks where he only replied in grunts and shrugs. It’s my own fault for expecting some miraculous turnaround on his part.”

“He’s still adjusting to everything. You both are.”

“I know. I just need to keep being patient and keep reminding him I’m here if he wants a relationship with me.”

Just like Tabitha chose to work on her relationship with Miles, she also chose to work on building one with her brother.

So far, the kid wasn’t interested.

But Tabitha wasn’t giving up on him. And Miles had a feeling, one day, Walsh was going to appreciate that.

Especially after everything the kid had been through.