Free A Word with the Bachelor by Teresa Southwick Page B

good. Once upon a time he’d expected and anticipated a greeting after working all day but that dream had bitten him in the ass. Military training taught him a man didn’t stay alive by making the same mistake twice. You might get lucky the first time, but your survival odds went down by a lot after that. In personal relationships, he hadn’t even survived the first time.
    Now that his head was on straight, he walked up the steps and in the front door. The fantastic smell of cooking food coming from his kitchen made his mouth water. Harley just trotted straight to where it was coming from and checked out what was going on.
    Jack followed and his gaze was drawn to Erin, who was bending over to check something in the oven. She wasn’t wearing the yoga pants, but her snug jeans were a close second in the framing-an-outstanding-ass department.
    She looked at Harley, who stopped beside her. “Hello there, handsome. Be careful. This is hot.”
    Yes, it was, Jack thought, and he didn’t mean the oven.
    â€œHe knows,” Jack told her. “Animal instinct.”
    Stay away from anything hot because it’s going to hurt . Good advice. Jack made note of that just in case his own instincts needed the reminder.
    She closed the oven door and straightened. “Hi.”
    â€œBrew said you were cooking up something special tonight.”
    â€œDid that blabbermouth spoil my surprise?” She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a faux stern look.
    â€œHey, don’t give me the stink eye. I didn’t reveal any top secrets.” He couldn’t think of a single time that anyone had ever tried to surprise him. That gave him a weird feeling in his gut. “And, no, he didn’t tell me what you’re cooking if that’s what you’re asking. But it smells awful darn good.”
    â€œFried chicken. Macaroni and cheese. From scratch, mind you. Not out of a box. Green beans. Biscuits, also from scratch. Pure comfort food.”
    â€œWhy? Do you need cheering up?”
    â€œNo, but I thought it would be good for you. Your editor said there’s more to a writer than typing words into a computer. Cheryl was adamant that it wasn’t just your creativity that needed cultivation. It’s about mind, body and spirit.” She shrugged. “Makes sense if you think about it. How can your brain work efficiently if it’s not fueled properly?”
    If she’d done all this cooking for his body, Jack couldn’t wait to see what she had planned for his spirit. There were a lot of things he could think of that had nothing to do with food.
    He had to get his mind off how she looked in those tight pants and on to something more unexciting. “There’s fuel and then there’s fuel. I’ve had MREs that kept your body going. Basic. But this is carb-heavy.”
    â€œIt’s good for the imagination,” she said.
    The hell with imagination and creativity for crying out loud. He could think of some other parts of him that hadn’t had any attention in a very long time. But before he could figure out how to verbalize a segue to that, or even how bad an idea it was to go there, the stove timer started signaling something.
    â€œMac and cheese is done.” Erin smiled brightly and grabbed some heavy-duty oven mitts, then pulled a big, oblong glass dish out of the oven. She set it on a hot tray to keep it warm. “Dinner is officially ready. Have a seat and I’ll set everything on the table.”
    Jack did as ordered, but damned if he didn’t get the strangest feeling. Not woo-woo, déjà vu weird, but regret. After marrying Karen this was how he’d pictured their life when he was finished with deployments for good. He’d go to work and when he got home she’d be cooking dinner. Mouth-watering smells would be coming from the kitchen. They’d have a little wine, some conversation about their respective days. He’d