Free The Broken Road by Melissa Huie

it.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, Megan. It’s Alex. I want to apologize for leaving you like I did this morning.” His accent made my toes tingle.
    “Hi, Alex. No worries. I totally understand,” I replied, as I tried hard not to let him hear the big cheese of a smile that was on my face.
    “I appreciate that. I’m wondering if you’d like to meet for dinner tonight. I’m in Annapolis right now, so I can meet you so anywhere.” Butterflies replaced the growling in my stomach. I wanted to squeal, but kept it cool.
    “Actually Alex, I just made some beef stew. Would you like to join me? I have plenty,” I offered, surprising myself. The suggestion just came tumbling out.
    “Sure. If you don’t mind. I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in a long time. And I love beef stew.”
    I gave him the directions to my house. Barring any traffic issues, he was about twenty minutes away. I stared at the phone for a minute, in a daze. Then a jolt hit me. I’m a mess!
    I tore upstairs and threw on a pair of slimming jeans and a low cut pink shirt. Thinking way out of line, I quickly disrobed, and changed into a sexier pair of pink boy shorts and matching bra, then put the outfit back on. I’m not planning anything in particular, but one should always prepare, right?
    I got back downstairs, threw the bread back in the oven to keep warm, straightened up the kitchen, and closed the laundry room door. Act natural, I thought, as the doorbell rang. I walked through the living room to the front door.
    “Hi,” I said brightly, opening the door wide. Thick snowflakes fell heavily around him. Alex dusted off his boots and shook off his hat. He walked in, blowing his hands warm.
    “Hi there,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek. “It’s really coming down out there.” I took his coat and led him inside.
    “It looks nasty out,” I replied, as I hung his jacket in the closet. “I hope you're hungry. I made enough for an army.” I led him to my kitchen.
    “You have a beautiful home,” Alex said, his gray eyes surveying the oak floors and wine colored walls. He handed me a bottle of wine. “Oh here. I picked this up. This should go well with the stew.”
    “Thanks.” I looked at the label; it was a label I have heard of but never tried. I’m not a wine connoisseur by any means, but I have my favorites and a budget. This was over my budget. I went over to the cabinets and pulled out some wine glasses.
    “If you don’t mind opening this up, I’ll get everything else on the table,” I said handed him the cork screw and the glasses. I pulled out the bread and started cutting off thick slices. I set down two cranberry-colored bowls filled with piping hot stew. Alex poured the wine and seconds later we were digging in.
    “This is fantastic,” Alex said, and took a sip of his wine. The wine was delicious and a great complement to the stew.
    “Thanks. It’s my mother’s recipe,” I replied.
    “Well, it’s your mom’s recipe, but you made it. It’s great,” he teased gently, the gray in his eyes shining like silver.
    I blushed slightly and smiled. He was flirting with me. He was cute, I was slightly buzzed. Things couldn’t be better.
    “I’m glad you decided to join me. With all this snow, my car would have never made it home,” I joked, as I refilled our glasses. Our bowls were practically empty. “Would you like some more?”
    Alex stood up and stretched. “Yeah, I’ll have some more. I’ll get it.” He refilled both our bowls and brought the rest of the bread over to the table. “You guys don’t get much snow up here do you?”
    I shook my head. “We get snow about once or twice a month. Just enough to royally mess up the roads and cause headaches; nothing substantial. What about you? I am curious if your Porsche handles well in the mess out there.”
    Alex laughed. “Yeah, I’m surprised she made it here. Roads were horrible, just like you said.”
    We talked easily about his grandfather’s declining