Page 115 of Full Mountie

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

“I shared a river with a bear…”

“You did.” He strokes a finger along my cheek, then kisses my nose. “Want to go make some celebratory dinner together?”

“Steaks?”

“You know it.”

39

Lachlan

There are only two steaks.

Motherfucker.

I stare at the trays of meat Hugh bought, and had already stashed in the fridge before we arrived yesterday.

Two steaks.

Two giant chicken breasts.

A single tray of brats, when I know if he was planning on eating them, there’d be a second tray, too.

He wasn’t planning on sticking around.

At some point, he decided to ditch us here. A slow, angry burn crawls up my neck.

He took my God damned shopping list and used it to set us up in a love nest. Then he dirtied it up but good before skipping out.

Why in hell wouldn’t he know that we’d fucking miss him when he did that?

“What is it?” Beth asks.

I jerk my attention to where she’s sitting in the living room. She’d been reading a book, but now she’s staring at me.

“You opened the fridge and then just stood there,” she says, standing up.

I close the door. “Yeah.”

“Do you want help with dinner?”

I shake my head. “No.” I pull the fridge door open again. “I want a beer. You?”

“Sure.”

I grab two bottles and take the caps off before I join her. Dinner can wait.

I set the bottles on the steamer trunk turned coffee table and pick up her foot, now bare, because her only pair of socks are drip drying on a rack in the bathroom. “Are you cold?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve got extra socks. Big manly ones. Wool. You could—”

“Lachlan, what’s wrong?”

“Hugh only bought food for the two of us. Two steaks. Two chicken breasts.”

---