Page 10 of Tex's Angel

“Alright, I’ll take y’all at your word for that,” he states quietly. And just like that, his grumpy mood is back. Damn, this man was as prickly as they come, and it was really irritating to always have to navigate around his peculiar personality. Therefore, I went back to scrolling on my cell phone and just kept my mouth closed for the rest of the drive. I’d fix him and his son food in exchange for him repairing my car and that would be the end of our short-lived truce.

Within moments he’s pulling into his driveway. I hop out of the pickup and drop my keys in his hand before fast walking back to my house. I have absolutely no shame when it comes to putting my back to this man.

***

Cooking was one of my favorite pastimes, a way of working off stress. So, I get right to it, sautéing the chicken breasts lightly in garlic butter, I set them aside with the lid on to finish cooking. Next, I pull out homemade fettuccine from my freezer and set it aside to thaw out a little. It takes me a bit to make my Alfredo sauce from scratch. Once the sauce is on the hob, I remember to slide the rolls into the oven and set the timer. When everything is ready, I get a couple of large round containers and begin filling it with the fettuccine alfredo, add some extra cheese on top and then slide in a large chicken breast and a hefty scoop of green beans from my slow cooker. I wrap a pile of the hot rolls in a large cloth napkin and tie the corners up.

I bag it up for Tex and his son. Just as I’m walking out the door, I hear my car start up. Even if Tex is grumpy, he’s as good as his word about fixing my car so I can’t find it in my heart to be upset with him. He’s wiping his hands on a towel when I walk up, looking pleased with himself.

“Thank you, Tex. Replacing that starter saves me a lot of grief. I appreciate it more than you know.” I hold out the bag with his dinner in and watch his nose go wild. It’s kind of cute.

“Wow, your food smells amazing, Clara, looking forward to chowing down on this tonight.” When he reaches out, I see he still has something grimy on his arm, so I snag his rag, spit on it, and wipe away the greasy streak.

He bats my hand away playfully, “Stop acting like my mama.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’d rather have black grease from my car on your arm rather than my saliva?” I ask with a grin on my face.

His eyebrows shoot up. “When you put it like that, yes. Keep your spit to yourself, woman.”

I take a step back. “I could say something right now, but I won’t.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Cause if you start flirting with me about swapping saliva, I might get accused of robbing the damn cradle.”

My head tilts to the side. “How in the heck old do you think I am?”

He gives me a rueful look, “Maybe twenty.”

My hands came up to rest on my hips. “I have a whole ass college degree. You know that because I’m a teacher. I may not be an old codger like you, but I’m not a teen.”

Suddenly, his son was yelling from the front door. “We getting dinner anytime soon? My belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”

I did an about-face and walk towards my back door. “Enjoy your dinner, Tex, and thanks for the help.”

He shouts after me, “Catch!”

When I turn, he tosses me my keys. I reach out and catch them with one hand, thankfully. I was tired of looking like a fool in front of this neighbor of mine. “Thanks again, Tex.”

My neighbor was a complex man. One the one hand, he’d clearly had a hard life. His wife had either left him or she’s passed away. He didn’t seem like the type of man who believed in divorce, so I didn’t think he left her. He finally told me hisname and gave me permission to call him by his nickname, and, unless I missed my guess, I think we did flirt a bit.

Chapter 6

Tex

The moment I walk through the front door, my son’s expression brightens. “Whatever’s in the bag smells amazing. I didn’t think we were gonna order out anymore this week.”

I set the bag down on the table and began to unpack the contents, realizing she made man-sized portions for both of us, plus bread. I handed Levi his container of food and murmured, “I’m gonna wash my hands and get us some flatware.”

I wash up in the kitchen sink and bring back flatware, two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge.

Levi takes the flatware from my hand and enthuses, “This seems like a luxury meal. If you didn’t order out, where did you get it?”

“I traded work on our neighbor’s car, and she agreed to make us dinner. When she said she was a good cook, I wasn’t expecting much.”

Levi cuts off a large piece of the chicken and stuffs it into his mouth. “She wasn’t lying. You’ve got to taste this.”

I chuckle, pleased to see him eating something he enjoys so much. To say neither of us are particularly good cooks would be an understatement. That’s what made her food such a treat for us. I’m not one of those men that thinks a woman’s place is in the home—and if I don’t cook then we don’t eat—but nothing compares to having a meal made for you. I quickly pour us a tall,sweet tea and hand one to Levi before sitting down and tearing the lid off my container. The aroma that rises to my nostrils is beyond delectable. I twirl my fork around the noodles and bring a bite to my mouth. The flavor hits all the right places.

“See,” Levi says gleefully. “It’s good eatin’, ain’t it, Dad?”

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