Page 35 of Lost in You

She shakes her head. “I’d rather just live here forever than risk you dying.”

I consider her words as she pours me a cup of coffee. “Live here forever, huh? With a grouchy old hockey player?”

A smile plays on her lips as she brings the mug over to me. “Maybe not. How old are you?”

“I’m 35.”

“Oh, is that all? I thought you were at least forty-five.” She gives me a playful look.

I scoot closer to the fire. “I saw a bear.”

Her brows hit her hairline. “Are you serious? Was it aggressive?”

“No, it was way off in the distance. I don’t think it even saw me. But I don’t want to get any closer to one.”

She nods. “I’m glad you’re not going out again. I made food if you’re hungry.”

“I’m starving. What’d you make?”

“Taco soup and an apple crisp.”

Now I’m the one giving her an incredulous look. “Apple crisp?”

“With dried apples. It turned out pretty well, but I don’t have any ice cream to put on top of it.”

My stomach growls painfully as I stand up. “I don’t care. I’ll take it and whatever taco soup is left.”

She opens the cabinet to take out a bowl. I reach for the pot on the hotplate, taking it by the handle.

“No bowl?” she asks, puzzled.

I shake my head. “I’m eating it all, no reason to dirty another dish.”

Amused, she passes me a spoon. I dig in immediately, closing my eyes as the first spicy bite touches my tastebuds.

“This is great.”

She smiles and sits down across from me. “How much would you pay right now for an actual taco?”

“Hardshell or softshell?

She considers. “Hardshell. Warm, crunchy shell loaded with seasoned beef, queso, onions and tomatoes.”

“Ten grand.”

She bursts out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. I’d pay fifty grand for five of those. How much would you pay?”

“Well, I’m not a millionaire, but I’d do a few hundred.” She passes me a big glass of water.

“Thanks.” I drink half of it and set the glass back down. “How much for a huge banana split?”

“Oh.” The word comes out of her mouth as a sensual moan. “A lot. Especially if it had caramel and strawberries and whipped cream.”

“I’d go fifteen large for a banana split. And honestly, I wouldn’t blink at twenty for a big, perfectly cooked filet mignon.”

She hums her agreement. “See, that would be a major downside to staying here forever.”

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